Katniss and Cato: Love in Dangerous Waters
by RichardJ
Summary: Should Katniss be wandering around the Hunger Games Training Centre late at night wearing only a short lacy nightie? And taking a midnight swim with only Cato for company is surely asking for trouble. Is it to be war or will love conquer all? A series of 6 or 7 part stories.
1. 1-1 The lacy nightie

Suzanne Collins is acknowledged as the creator of the Hunger Games characters and story.

This series is told from the point of view of Katniss. The same events told from Cato's point of view are told in _Cato and Katniss: Lust, Love and Danger_ (Fan Fiction story ID 10861757)

Episode 1: A risky adventure

1.1: The lacy nightie.

It's nearly midnight and I can't get to sleep. Tomorrow is the last day of training in preparation for the arena. Not that a few days training is going to make much of a difference to the life expectancy of most of the tributes. The training programme is designed to enable the gamblers to assess the odds, and to keep enough of the tributes alive long enough to prevent the 74th Hunger Games from finishing too soon. The Careers … the tributes from Districts One and Two … have an overwhelming advantage. This year the Careers are Cato, Marvel, Clove and Glimmer. I can even remember their names. Apart from Peeta, my fellow District Twelve tribute, and Rue from District Eleven, I can't remember anyone else's name. The Careers have trained for this event for five or six years to the extent they are four lethal killing machines about to be set loose on twenty underfed kids who have probably never held anything more dangerous than a bread knife.

I suppose I'm an exception. I can hunt and use a bow … against animals. I don't think I can kill a person and in hand to hand combat I wouldn't stand a chance. Even Peeta seems resigned to meeting his death in the arena. He just wants to die with dignity. I don't want to die. Prim and my mother are depending on my victorious return to District Twelve, even if they know deep in their hearts it is a forlorn wish.

I give up trying to sleep. I slip my short dressing gown over my even shorter nightie and decide to take a walk around the apartment. My choice to wear skimpy clothing has more to do with a sudden burst of rebellion than any shortage of clothes. There is plenty of sleepwear to chose from in the wardrobe in my room. But I've never had the chance to wear lacy clothes before and if I'm going to die in a few days then I think I'm entitled to indulge my fantasies for once.

The apartment is quiet. Everyone else must have had no trouble falling asleep. In Haymitch's case that will have more to do with the quantity of alcohol he consumed during the evening meal. Suddenly a movement catches my eye. I duck behind a door in case it is Peeta. I'm not certain I want him seeing me dressed like this. I watch the figure at the other end of the apartment for a few moments before realising it is one of the Avox's who wait on us and clean up after us. They try to be invisible, hovering just out of sight unless one is needed to serve us. I don't think I can ever get used to someone serving me in that way. This girl is using our absence to finish clearing the empty glasses and plates from our evening meal.

We are told that Avoxes are criminals who have been sentenced to have their tongues cut out. They are then put to work doing the menial and dirty tasks nobody else wants to do. But there seem to be so many young Avoxes here in the Hunger Games Training Centre.

The girl leaves the room through a side door. It dawns on me that there must be a service elevator somewhere in the apartment to enable deliveries of food and to let the Avoxes come and go. The main door and elevator to the apartment is locked and monitored at this time of night to keep the tributes in their place and to provide security against intruders. For some reason I feel the urge to explore.

I go through the door the girl entered and find myself in a short narrow corridor with a single elevator at the far end. The panel by the side of the door indicates the elevator is descending to a lower level. Undoubtedly it is the Avox girl going to the kitchen. I wait until the elevator stops and allow time for the girl to leave before pressing the call button on the panel. The elevator starts ascending at once and moments later the door opens. I quickly enter and press the button for the ground level. Nothing happens. I try again with an equal lack of success. My adventure is going to be short lived if this elevator needs a security card or something to operate. I try the button for the basement level where the training rooms are located. Success! The elevator starts descending and soon arrives at the basement. The door opens and I tentatively peek out in case anyone is around. Everything seems quiet. The kitchens must be located in the lower basement, one floor down.

I walk along the short corridor and peek through the glass in the door at the end. The door opens into the main corridor on this level, not far from where the main elevators are located. I know my way to the training rooms but not what lies behind the many other doors off the main corridor.

The lack of security guards concerns me for a moment before it dawns on me that everywhere is monitored by cameras. My little adventure is probably already being observed by the security guards in a control room somewhere. Any minute now I can expect to hear the sound of running feet and being faced with two burly officers wanting to know what I'm doing. My best plan is to ignore the cameras and just walk as though I belong here. Sneaking about will just raise suspicion that I'm up to no good. Fortunately my dressing gown is the same colour as the Avox uniforms, so an inattentive guard may mistake me for an Avox.

I walk along the corridor not daring to breath in case I trigger an alarm or my actions make the security staff decide to investigate. I haven't thought about where I want to go other than I don't really want to go to the training rooms. A door off the main corridor is ajar and on impulse I go through it into another short corridor with a door at the end. There's plenty of light streaming through the window in the door. The lighting has been dimmed everywhere else, but the room on the other side of this door is fully lit.

The window in the door is misted, and the smell of chemicals makes me think it is a laundry. I open the door and peek inside. Not a laundry. It's a large swimming pool. The room is warm and the water looks inviting. At least to someone like me who can swim. I walk around the pool to check that nobody is about. I come across some racks with towels but there are no swimming costumes. I don't recall seeing a swimming costume among the Capitol supplied clothes in my room. Either I'm not expected to go swimming, or the practise in the Capitol is to swim naked.

The water seems warm and inviting, but I'm also aware the pool, like everywhere else, will be monitored by cameras. I can see at least three around the walls. What I can't understand is why I've not been accosted by security guards by now. Even the dopiest guard must surely have realised by now I'm not an Avox. But I push concerns about that to one side and prepare to enter the water. I slip off my dressing gown and dive into the water wearing my lacy nightie. I'm not brash enough to strip myself in front of whoever is monitoring the cameras, although the way my wet nightie is clinging I suspect very little is left to the imagination.

I swim a couple of lengths of the pool before I realise I have company. Someone else has entered the water. I make a sudden cry of alarm. Who is it? I'm in two minds whether to leave the water and make a hasty exit, or to stand my ground. The thought of running around the complex in nothing but a wet clinging nightie helps me make my mind up. I turn to face whoever is here with me.

The swimmer heads in my direction. As the distance between us shortens I realise the swimmer is male and he has no clothes on. Suddenly running around the complex in a wet nightie doesn't seem such a silly idea any more. My indecision causes me to waste my only chance of leaving without confronting him. I suppose it could be one of the complex staff taking a midnight swim.

The swimmer comes directly for me. He stops a few metres from me and treads water.

"Well, this is a surprise," he says. "I didn't think any of the other tributes knew about this place, and be brave enough to take a midnight swim. I can see you are someone I'm going to need to be wary of in the arena."

"You had best keep your distance from me, Cato," I say, trying hard to keep the tremor out of my voice. "We're not allowed to fight before we enter the arena."

I'm alone with a trained killer and my only means of defence is to quote from the Gamemakers' rulebook.


	2. 1-2 Swimming with a naked girl

1.2: Swimming with a naked girl.

"Why would you want to fight with me here?" replies Cato. "There's time for that soon enough. I intend to enjoy my swim and then go to bed. I suggest you do the same. Or can't you sleep? You wouldn't be the first tribute to be afraid and suffer sleepless nights before entering the arena."

"I'm not afraid," I say, more for my own benefit. "I just can't get used to sleeping on a soft bed."

"Yeah, whatever," he replies. "Well, if you're not afraid you won't mind racing me to the other end of the pool and back."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because it's fun and I don't often get the chance to swim with a naked girl. Are you normally so argumentative?"

"I'm not naked. And I'm not arguing. I'm being curious."

"Ha! You may as well be naked for all that flimsy thing you are wearing is hiding. You have a nice body. You shouldn't be afraid to let people see it."

Cato's comments immediately causes me to blush. I can't let him see how much his comment has embarrassed me so I move into position for the race he wants.

"Are you ready? Go!" I call as I launch myself off in the direction of the far end.

"Hey! Cheat!" he calls before taking off after me.

I've never tried swimming in a race but I soon see Cato's point. It is fun. I'm almost to the far end before Cato manages to draw close to me. He's a strong swimmer but doesn't have the elegant style that my father drummed into me. We turn only seconds apart and I try to increase my speed on the return leg. Half way down the pool I realise Cato's strength is starting to tell and I'm struggling to keep my lead. Moments later we are level and I draw on my last reserves to regain the lead. We reach the end of the pool neck and neck and I don't think either of us can tell who touched the end first.

We are both breathing heavily as we climb out of the pool and collapse on the floor. It is only then that I realise we are virtually touching. I'm lying next to naked boy. Something I've only ever done in my wildest fantasies. Fortunately he seems too preoccupied in regaining his breath to notice my discomfort. I should move away before he recovers, but something inside me makes me stay where I am.

"Is that the best your wonderful training academy can teach you Careers?" I say.

"Swimming isn't seen as a priority. Few Hunger Games require tributes to have the ability to swim, and those that do only require sufficient skill to avoid drowning. Since the trainers haven't had us practising in here, I think these games won't require much swimming. Anyway, where did you learn to swim like that? I didn't think there would be much call for swimming down in the coal mines."

"I've never been down a coal mine. But mines flood from time to time and I suppose my father thought it better for me to learn to swim well."

Cato turns towards me and as hard as I try not to look below his waist, my eyes are drawn like a magnet. I notice he is looking at me in a way that makes me both excited and uncomfortable.

I look into his eyes and immediately sink into their depths. I don't even notice when he moves closer so our bodies are actually touching. The kiss that follows seems so natural my body responds by itself.

"I don't think we should be doing this," I say with half-hearted sincerity when we break for air.

"Why not?" is his reply.

"Because we are enemies. We will be expected to try and kill each other in a few days."

"And does doing this makes a difference? This is now. The arena is later."

"I don't know if I can separate the two. You have been taught to kill without mercy. But not everyone is like you."

"I have been taught how to use weapons and other combat skills. But not all Careers are merciless machines. Clove may fit that description, but unlike her I don't enjoy inflicting pain and death. I haven't killed anyone yet and I don't know how I'll react when the time comes."

"But your training will still make you kill that person regardless of how you feel now. And that person could be me."

"I know. I won't like killing a person, but I will do it if necessary. It would be unfortunate if it is you I am facing in arena, but you are right, my training will help me make the right choice."

"I'm sure I shall die a lot happier knowing how cut up you are as you slit my throat," I say with as much sarcasm as I can manage.

"Yes, I may even shed a tear," he replies with equal sarcasm as he leans towards me and shares a second kiss with me.

My mind and body are confused. Even fully clothed I've never been this intimate with a boy before. My near nakedness is sending all the wrong signals to both of us. I should stop and walk out of here, but as crazy as it sounds there is no way I want to do that.

Our third kiss is accompanied by roaming hands. His on my yielding torso and mine … yes, well never mind where my hands go.

"Do you think the security cameras in this room are switched off?" I ask when we break for a brief moment.

"No. I'm fairly sure we are being watched."

"Then why haven't the security guards intervened and frogmarched us back to our rooms?"

"We aren't trying to kill each other so there's no need for them to intervene. Anyway, if they do they will miss all the fun? Can you imagine how boring it is to watch banks of screens for hours with absolutely nothing happening to break the monotony. We are livening up their night for them. For all we know they could be selling tickets to watch the main event."

"That's disgusting. Anyway, what main event? I hope you aren't implying we are going further than a few kisses."

"I'm not **implying** anything."


	3. 1-3 The hunters proposition

1.3: The hunter's proposition.

"And what makes you think I want there to be a main event?"

"Because you do. Otherwise you would have dressed more modestly before you left your apartment. And you wouldn't have stayed here when you saw me in the water with you. Nor would you have let me lie close to you like this."

"A girl is allowed her own reasons for dressing the way she chooses and doing the things she does. I don't have to explain myself to you. If I choose to say 'no', then that is my prerogative. Or did you have something more forceful in mind? Something more in keeping with your Career training."

"You slander me! Have I done anything to you to warrant such a comment? Have I in any way hurt you while we have been here? As far as I can tell you have so far enjoyed my company."

I suddenly feel awkward and uncomfortable. My own feelings are strange to me and causing me confusion. Cato is right. I have enjoyed his company and have no complaints about his behaviour so far. Other than his suggestion that this has all been the appetiser and the main course is about to follow.

His remarks have hit home more than I'm willing to admit. He's right. I did dress like this because I felt an urge to free my sexuality from its everyday constraints. And the more daring I've been, the more alive my body has felt. Even now the prospect of allowing Cato to perform the most intimate act with me is sending a thrill through my body. But common sense is trying to tell me otherwise. And I'm the sort of girl who pays a lot of attention to common sense.

"I apologise," I say. "Your behaviour so far does not deserve my last remark. But I stand by my right to say 'no'."

"And I will abide by your decision. But if you are contemplating saying 'yes' then might I remind you it is well past midnight and the opportunity might not present itself another day."

"Well, normally a girl likes to be romanced a bit before being leapt on," I say, not really knowing if that is true.

"Really? You would surrender yourself to someone who told you your eyes are beautiful, that your body is just perfect, and your choice of clothes is divine? That doesn't sound like the person I saw in the training room yesterday nor here tonight. I would have placed you as a girl who is far too level headed to fall for that sort of line."

"If you're the expert, then tell me what sort of approach a boy should take to win me over. Because at the moment you aren't succeeding."

"Hah! You're perfect! I love a girl who plays hard to get. The chase is just as much fun as the end result."

"You're talking from experience, I presume?" I interrupt.

"Some. But you're a worthy challenge for my manly powers. You're the first girl I've met who has seen me like this and isn't begging for my attentions."

"I'm surprised your conceit has enabled you to notice such a thing. So Mr. Wonderful, how do you propose to seduce me?"

"Wow! You are an interesting challenge! I notice that despite our conversation you haven't actually ruled out accepting my offer to make you a woman."

"What a quaint term. 'Make me a woman'. So much better than the cruder terms. But you are stalling. As you said, it is getting late and as much as I've enjoyed our time together, we both have a busy schedule tomorrow."

"I agree. If I can't make you say 'yes' within five minutes then I shall concede defeat and we shall go back to our rooms."

He looks at me and I nod in agreement.

"So, what really excites a girl from District Twelve?" he muses. "We can't be that different. Your district has coal mines and my district has quarries. Both require heavy manual labour. Sweating bodies and dirt everywhere. Which explains why you aren't swooning at the sight of my bare chest. There are girls who almost faint at the sight … but not you. Despite what you said, I don't think sweet-talking you is going to make you want to say 'yes'. So, that leaves a more physical approach. I think you are the type who likes to be hunted. Not the fake chases and mock play about being captured and becoming a helpless victim of a man's wicked desires. No, I think you really want a man to prove to you he is able to outsmart you and is therefore worthy of your body."

"What a bizarre idea," I say, trying hard to sound casual. My already heightened senses are being pushed into overdrive. I've never thought about what attracts me sexually, but Cato's comments are setting me alight with desire. "How do you propose to prove your theory?"

"I shall give you a thirty second start. If you can remain at large for four minutes then my time is up and I shall return to my room a sorry man. But if I corner you, then you are mine."

"I thought I had the right to say 'no'," I say.

"And you do. It will only take you ten seconds to reach the door to the main corridor over there and you are free to return to your room. I shall not attempt to stop you. You have twenty five seconds left."

I leap up and bolt for the side rooms holding the towels. There are other rooms on the far side. Saunas and hot pools. All ready for use, but devoid of people. I wonder if anyone ever uses these rooms. It seems such a waste if they aren't used.

There is a lack of good hiding places, but I only need to stay free for four minutes. It will take Cato most of that time to check all these rooms. I settle for a room with several sunken hot tubs in the middle and some cupboards just large enough for me to hide inside. It isn't until I'm hidden that I realise that by staying in these rooms I have made a major decision. If Cato finds me then I've promised him me.

One minute passes … then another. I can't hear anything and my hiding place offers only a limited view of the hot tubs. I begin to wonder if Cato is actually looking for me. How embarrassing it would be if he simply left for his rooms leaving the security guards monitoring us to laugh at my folly. But I saw the look in Cato's eyes. He definitely had the look of a wolf eager to devour a lamb. A lamb called Katniss.

The three minute mark must have passed before I hear something in the adjacent room. The sound of doors being opened and closed. He must be searching the cupboards in that room. The speed at which he is doing it suggests he knows he is running out of time. He won't have time to search the cupboards in this room. I've won!

Or have I?


	4. 1-4 Are we done talking?

1.4: Are we done talking?

Although I don't have a watch I know Cato's time is definitely running out. Cato must know that too. I do something I would never have thought myself capable of doing in these circumstances. I leave my hiding place.

Cato bursts into the room with the hot tubs with only seconds of his four minute deadline remaining. He stands by the door in shock.

"What kept you?" I say. "Your four minutes have almost expired. You nearly missed enjoying a treat. This water is absolutely heavenly. Not too hot and not too cold."

Cato recovers from his shock and joins me in the tub. The tub is only two metres in diameter so we are fairly close together as soon as he enters the water. But he doesn't immediately touch me as I had expected. He waits on the opposite side of the tub as though waiting for permission to approach me.

"I am impressed," he says. "Despite my apparent victory, you are in fact the winner. You allowed me to find you when you could have easily found a hiding place in these cupboards. What does that mean?"

"What would you like it to mean?" I say.

"I would like it to mean you have proved your cleverness and are now ready to continue where we left off before."

"Are you sure you are not too tired and wish to go to bed?" I tease.

"I think I could manage to stay awake all night given the right incentive. How about you?"

"The same. Are we done talking?"

"I thought girls like to talk," he says as he wraps me in his arms.

"There's a time and a place for everything. And talking isn't what I need right now."

He kisses me and I melt into his arms.

Just at that moment the lights go out and we are plunged into pitch darkness. But I don't care. Cato's arms are wrapped around me and I don't care.

Less than a minute later the emergency lighting activates and the room changes from pitch black to something akin to a moonlit night.

"Stay where you are and don't move," comes a man's voice over a hidden speaker.

"The warm glow flowing through my entire body makes me wonder why the man would think I would wish to move from this position."

"I think we are about to be arrested or something," whispers Cato into my ear.

I don't care. I just want to hold Cato like this and feel him pressed against me. The normal lighting comes back on and we break our hold on each other to look around us. I take the opportunity to retrieve my nightie which is floating in the water. I don't recall whether it was Cato or I who removed it during our brief interlude. I put it back on with some difficulty. The wet fabric clinging in a way it didn't seem to just moments before.

Three security guards enter our room accompanied by a man with enough gold braid on his uniform to indicate he is somebody important.

"This is most irregular. Most irregular," grumbles the man. "These facilities are closed for the duration of the Hunger Games. I don't know how you gained entry to this building, but you must leave. It is fortunate you didn't enter the upper floors. We would have had to arrest you if you went up there. Now, make yourselves decent and I'll escort you to the door."

I look at Cato and realise he is as baffled as I am at what is going on. As Cato and I fetch some towels to dry ourselves it dawns on me that these security guards think we are intruders from the Capitol. They don't know we are tributes and have sneaked down here from our respective apartment. They must be over-confident of their security arrangements. Perhaps these guards have only just come on duty and didn't see us enter.

Neither Cato nor I have clothes, unless you count my flimsy wet nightie. I can't remember where I left my dressing gown. Cato presumably arrived wearing something, but he doesn't seem inclined to go and fetch it. We both wrap towels around us and knot them to preserve a modicum of decency. The security officer signals for us to follow him. We meekly follow him like two naughty schoolchildren.

"I know the celebrations before the Hunger Games are a time for high spirits but you must not enter a secure area like this," lectures the man. "Now go home before you get into more trouble."

With that brief lecture we are escorted out of a side door to the Training Centre building and the door closed firmly behind us.

"You heard the man. We can both go home," says Cato.

"If only we could," I say. "But in case you haven't noticed, we have no clothes, no money and it's a long walk home. Besides, if we go missing they will just replace us with two more tributes. You will lose your chance for fame and fortune, and my sister will probably be made to enter the arena in my place."

"That's true," replies Cato. "But we won't be missed until morning. We have at least five hours to ourselves. We can do a lot in five hours."

"Yes. We could visit the presidential palace, and the National Library, and …"

I almost break into laughter at Cato's reaction to my suggestions. He clearly has something quite different in mind and, in truth, so do I. Besides, all those buildings will be closed at this time of night. I take his hand and walk towards the park that runs alongside the river bank.

Despite the late hour the park is busy. Mainly young couples like us are looking for somewhere private to enjoy each other's company. Having worked myself up into deciding tonight is going to be my big night, I feel slightly disappointed we can't find somewhere to go.

"Can you climb?" asks Cato, pointing to a roof garden above a café which has closed for the night. The steps up to the roof garden are behind a locked gate, but climbing the wall shouldn't present too much difficulty.

"Yes. Can you?" I reply already making for a promising looking place on the side wall.

He follows me as I make light work of climbing the vines adorning the wall. Cato doesn't find it quite so easy. Something I must remember when we enter the arena. We scramble onto the roof garden and see it is a terrace with tables and chairs for the café customers. This place will be perfect.


	5. 1-5 Games in the night

1.5: Games in the night.

I find a large sofa with a low table in front of it. I clear away the glasses and plates the last occupants of this area left behind. The owners of the café clearly intend to clear up in the morning.

"Hey, look what I found," says Cato. "A half finished bottle of wine. I'll fetch some glasses and we can celebrate our good fortune."

I make myself comfortable. The night is warm despite the closeness of the mountains. I lie back and look at the starlit sky. It's all very romantic, which helps put me back in the mood for what I know is about to happen. When we were in the hot pool we thought we were pressed for time and needed to rush things. Here we are alone and unlikely to be disturbed before morning.

Cato returns with two glasses and a bottle I presume is wine. I've never drunk wine before. It isn't the sort of luxury anybody in District Twelve can afford. He pours some of the wine into the two glasses. He samples some wine before passing my glass to me.

"Need to check the wine hasn't gone off," he says when he sees my puzzled look. I shrug in response. Either he is showing off or drinking wine is a far more common event in District Two than I thought.

"Ah! A District Three Chardonnay, if I'm not mistaken," he says has he sniffs the wine and takes another sip.

"Are you an expert on wine?" I ask incredulously. "Or are you just making that up?"

"Neither. That's what is written on the label," he laughs.

I join in his laughter. His playfulness is helping me relax and I'm no longer nervous about what is going to happen. By the time we've finished the glass and a half each of wine our bounty provided, we are sat side by side on the sofa. He puts his hands on me. Mine echo his movements. The real world seems a million miles away. I can't tell whether it is the effects of the wine or Cato's attentions which are causing me to think only of this moment. Of the intense pleasure I'm feeling as our limbs entwine.

Then he starts kissing me. At this point I lose control of myself and crave for more of what he is doing. I've no experience at this level of intimacy, and only the vaguest idea of what I'm supposed to do. Lessons learned from schoolgirl gossip, and probably totally wrong. But I needn't have worried. Somehow my body seems to know what to do by instinct. When I'm not doing something quite right, Cato quietly guides me towards the right action. Our bodies respond as though we are one.

Then, before I realise it, he is on top of me. I feel that I'm at his complete mercy. That should alarm me and make me struggle, but all I want to do is to surrender myself to his desires. I'm rewarded with the most sensational feeling I can imagine. I had been told there would be some pain involved, but I'm too far gone into the stratosphere of my emotions to notice. Cato senses my submission and rewards me with a gentle and unhurried treat.

"Careful. I don't want to get pregnant," I say in a brief moment of lucidity.

If he hears me he doesn't alter his actions in any way. I'm too light-headed to force the issue. It's a problem for another day. Assuming I live long enough for it to be a problem.

Finally Cato and I are spent. Our emotions can only remain at fever pitch for so long. We eventually return to the real world. I've no idea how long I've been away. We lie in each others arms for a while regaining our breath.

"That wasn't bad for a first timer," says Cato.

"More of you Career experience talking, I suppose?" I reply, not certain whether to feel complemented or insulted.

"You're not my first, if that's what you mean. There are benefits to being a Career tribute. Good performance in training is rewarded by certain treats of a feminine nature. But I meant what I said. I could tell you were inexperienced, but you let go of your inhibitions. Few girls can do that the first time."

"Well I don't think you and I will be in a position for there to be a second time."

"Who knows. Perhaps we will come face to face in the arena and you can throw yourself at my mercy and beg me to let you go in exchange for a repeat of just now."

"In your dreams! I was thinking more of the other way round. Would you like to be my plaything, Cato?" I tease.

"Now who is dreaming? You are bold and control your fears well. I can see you are someone I must regard as a serious competitor in the arena. My chances of winning would be much better had you not volunteered on your sister's behalf. Why did you volunteer? Have you a death wish?"

"No. I want to live like every other tribute. But a twelve year-old doesn't belong in the arena. I love my sister and she is my responsibility since my father died and my mother opted out of caring for us."

"A story that will probably have a sad ending. But let's not spoil tonight. Are you warm enough? The night air is starting to get chilly."

The afterglow of our coupling is still flowing though me making me feel mellow. I snuggle closer to Cato, both for warmth and to try and renew the strange and wonderful feelings I've experienced tonight. He gently caresses me and I start feeling aroused again. Surely he doesn't have the energy for another round of what occurred before. Tiredness is starting to overtake me, and I can't believe it isn't affecting Cato as well. But his caresses are divine. I don't want them to stop. He gently runs his fingers up and down my spine and sends more waves of pleasure coursing through me. I respond in kind and despite my obvious inexperience my efforts are having a visible effect on him.

"I wish we could stay here like this for ever," I say. "But we both know we must return to the Training Centre before dawn. If we don't turn up for training, our absence will be noticed by the Gamemakers and we will be hunted down and arrested. Despite the security officer's error in throwing us out, I doubt we will be shown any mercy if we are arrested."

"Yes, I know," replies Cato, deep in thought. "If only there was another way. Thanks for tonight. I can honestly say I really enjoyed it and in other circumstances I would hope for many more. I am going to be selfish and keep your nightie as a trophy to remember you."

I was planning on doing the same thing, but I don't refuse his request. "As long as I can have a trophy in return," I reply.

"Agreed. I seem to be out of suitable offerings at the moment. Let me know tomorrow what you would like."

I feel so comfortable I easily forget Cato and I are soon to face each other as deadly foes in the arena. Either Cato is a superb actor or his feelings must mirror mine. Eventually tiredness overcomes me. The warmth of Cato's embrace, and the after effects of the wine and our coupling, causes me to doze off despite my nakedness.

It must be an hour or so later when I wake. The night sky tells me dawn is still a long way off. I'm disoriented at first and wonder what has woken me. However, I soon realise it is the absence of Cato's warmth that has caused me to wake. I sit up to see where he has gone. There's no sign of him.

But Cato's absence isn't my main problem. As I move I realise there is a length of chain locked around my ankle, the other end of which tethers me to a heavy table.


	6. 1-6 An underhand trick

1.6: An underhand trick.

I quickly realise the seriousness of my situation. If I don't return to the Training Centre my sister Prim will be summoned to take my place. Prim is my responsibility. There is no way I would willingly allow her to replace me in the arena! A chill runs through me and I berate myself for being so stupid and emotionally carried away to drop my guard and allow Cato to chain me like this. There is no doubt in my mind that he's the one responsible for my predicament.

Is he being a coward who is scared of meeting me in the arena? Or does he think he is saving me from the arena by preventing me from returning to the Training Centre in time? Neither reason seems consistent with the Cato I've been with tonight, but he would surely have woken me had he noticed anybody else entering this café while we slept. Perhaps he is a better actor than I gave him credit. For all I know, his Career training could include a course in seducing maidens. After all, half the tributes are young girls. Some, like me, will be gullible enough to fall for Cato's charms, and walk into his deadly trap. But I mustn't dwell on Cato's reasons. My immediate priority is to get free.

I test the strength of the chain restraining me. It's similar to the security chain threaded through the handles of the cabinets behind the bar. Cato must have come across a spare length of chain while he was exploring earlier. The chain is lightweight but strong. There is no way I can break it. Which means I must somehow break the lock securing the chain to my ankle. It is a combination lock like the one securing the other end of the chain to the table. Unless I'm extremely lucky, I won't have enough time to open the lock by randomly guessing the five-digit combination. Just as I'm about to vent my frustration with a few choice curses, a flash of inspiration hits me. Cato must have known the combination to fasten the lock to the chain. How did he know the combination?

I check the tables and floor around me, as far as my chain allows. The combination must be written on something. I just hope it is something within reach. Could Cato have been careless and left me the combination? Or does he expect me to free myself and is just doing this to make me prove how dangerous I might be to his chances of victory in the arena. He wins either way. If I free myself and return to the Training Centre in time I've only marked myself as a dangerous competitor for Cato and the rest of the Careers to target. If I fail, then I must hide like a criminal while Cato faces an innocent twelve year old girl instead of me. That thought alone gives me the added motivation to foil his plan.

The chain is long enough for me to reach the small service area next to the bar. If the owners of the café have written down the combination, then this is the most likely place on this level. My frantic search is rewarded when I find a basket holding more lengths of chain and padlocks. Each padlock has a small detachable tag with the combination for that lock printed on it. Unlocking the padlock enables the tag to be removed. I search the bottom of the basket for any tags no longer with their padlock. Sure enough I find four tags. Hopefully one belongs to the lock securing the chain around my ankle.

I try the numbers on the lock on my ankle. I meet with success on the third number and within seconds I'm free of my chain. But before I can go anywhere I hear a humming sound. I look up and see a force field has activated forming a transparent roof over this garden. It must be what the café owners use to keep the rain off their customers. But there is no sign of rain and, in any case, the café is closed. Who switched on the force field?

That mystery is answered when I hear two people talking. They are coming up the interior staircase from the main café below. Two voices I recognise. Cato and Clove! The force field now blocks my exit over the wall so I can't leave the way Cato and I entered. My only option in the time available is to pretend I'm still asleep and chained to the table.

"See, she's still asleep," says Clove. "The sound you heard was probably the force field powering up."

"I don't know," replies Cato. "I'm still not comfortable leaving her chained like this. It's an underhand trick."

"Think yourself lucky I didn't chain you as well," replies Clove. "You saw her in training yesterday. She's dangerous. Her sister will be a much easier opponent."

"But someone will find her in the morning and set her free," replies Cato.

"Yes. But she will have missed the eight o'clock security check by then and be reported as a fugitive. If she's careless enough to reappear after that then she'll be arrested and executed. She'll be caught anyway; a naked girl with nowhere to go is going to be an easy target for even the most inept peacekeeper."

"I still don't like it. Anyway, why did you follow us? And how did you get out of the Training Centre?"

"I saw the pair of you as I was returning from a night out on the town. I realised this is a golden opportunity to improve our odds in the arena. Did you not read the Training Centre rules? Despite what most people believe, the tributes aren't prisoners while we are in training. As long as we are somewhere inside the Training Centre when the morning and evening security camera scans are done at eight o'clock, we can come and go as we please. Why do you think your night time frolics weren't stopped?"

"The rules? You mean that fifty page book they gave us when we arrived? Of course I've not read it!"

"Well if you spent less time trying to climb inside a girl's trousers, and more time paying attention to what really matters, your chances of survival might be better. Come on, we're leaving before sleeping beauty awakens and starts screaming the place down. The force field should muffle her cries, but it will be better if we are far away from here by then."

"How do we get out of here?" asks Cato.

"You're not too bright are you," scoffs Clove. "The gate lock only stops people entering the café. We can just walk down the exterior staircase over there."

Cato and Clove leave. My anger competes with my embarrassment. I get up as soon as I'm sure they have gone. Cato has taken my nightie and Clove has taken my towel. I've no clothes and I'm starting to get cold. I quietly admit the truth of Clove's comment about a naked girl being and easy target out there, despite the weird fashion tastes in the Capitol. I search the service area for a tablecloth or something to put over me. I find an apron that at least provides me with a semblance of decency.

I make my way back to the Training Centre, making sure Cato and Clove are nowhere in sight. Clove is right in saying the tributes are allowed to come and go and re-entering the Training Centre presents no problem. Perhaps I should have read the rule book as well. A retina scan at the security desk confirms my identity and I'm allowed to return to my room. My anger at Cato's betrayal has abated. Despite everything I did actually enjoy my time with him tonight, particularly when I remember why I chose to wear such provocative clothing and leave my room in the first place. I was looking for the type of experience and adventure that Cato delivered. Not that I am in any mood to forgive him; but I'm no longer embarrassed or afraid. If anything Clove's actions have filled me with a deadly resolve. Yesterday I was afraid of the Careers; today I realise they are actually afraid of me. I shall look forward to seeing Cato and Clove's faces when I appear for training in the morning.

The clock says it is 3:30 in the morning when my head hits my pillow. This time I have no difficulty falling asleep.

[End of Episode 1]


	7. 2-1 An alluring young woman

Episode 2: A second encounter

2.1: An alluring young woman

Although I wake up on time at seven o'clock, I decide to forgo the first hour of training in favour of another hour in bed. Today is the final half-day of training. The individual assessments start at lunchtime. Being from District Twelve, Peeta and I will be the last tributes assessed. We are not required to present ourselves to the Gamemakers until five o'clock, so we have most of the afternoon free.

My late arrival at breakfast means I've missed Peeta. He must have already had breakfast and gone to the training rooms. Haymitch is still at the table finishing his meal.

"You are late up this morning, sweetheart. Are you alright?" asks Haymitch.

"Yeah. I didn't get to sleep until the early hours," I reply.

"Well not going to bed until after three o'clock does that for you," replies Haymitch in a matter of fact tone.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry," I reply trying to sound sorry, even though I'm not.

"No, I slept soundly. But I checked the security log when I woke. It shows you entered the apartment at 3:06 this morning. Strangely there is no log entry for when you left the apartment. Would you care to explain?"

"I couldn't sleep so I went for a swim. I couldn't get the main apartment door open so I went down in the service elevator."

"OK. At least you aren't lying to me. But you aren't telling me the whole truth. You also seem to have been absent from the building for a while. Again there is a record of your return, but not your departure."

"Am I required to tell you my every movement?" I snap. Haymitch surely knows grilling me like this before I've had breakfast is asking for trouble.

"No. But you are young and naïve in the ways of the Capitol. I owe it to your family to keep you safe. At least until I deliver you to the arena."

"I went out for a walk after my swim," I say in a calmer tone now I understand Haymitch is only concerned for my safety. "I don't know why my departure wasn't logged. Perhaps the security guard made a mistake."

I fill my plate with food and sit at my place at the table. After my time with Cato last night I'm feeling very hungry. The after effects of my night time games with Cato still fill me with a pleasant glow. Even Clove's unsporting attempt to remove me from the 74th Hunger Games hasn't spoilt the pleasure of my time with Cato. I shall take the opportunity to exact my revenge on Clove if I get the chance. As for Cato, I shan't let him off lightly either. He may not have been the one who chained me to the table, but he didn't exactly go overboard in resisting Clove's wicked plan.

"You seem very relaxed this morning," observes Haymitch. "That's unusual. Most tributes start getting very tense and nervous at this point of the training. Whatever you did last night must have had a good effect. You might want to do the same tonight."

"Hmmm. That's a good idea. I shall consider your advice. Do you have any further advice for today?"

"None that you would like."

"Well tell me anyway," I say, not really feeling ready to leave for training just yet.

"OK, but don't bite my head off. You will need sponsors once you are in the arena. Try and find some feminine charms among that prickly exterior of yours. I'm sure you have some. Have you ever heard the saying that sex sells. Sponsors are more likely to back you if they think you are a likeable and alluring young woman. You normally come across as unapproachable and ready for a fight."

"Isn't that why we are here? To kill each other. The Hunger Games aren't a goodwill and friendship jamboree. Only one tribute returns home alive."

"Yes, I know. But the sponsors don't see it that way. And sponsors are the people who provide you with essential items while you are fighting for your life in the arena. They are more likely to help someone who is pleasant and will make a model victor. This is all a publicity show. You stand a better chance of survival if you play the game to the Capitol's rules."

"Well I don't like it. But I understand what you say. Thank you," I reply as I finish my breakfast.

"Hold on, sweetheart. What has come over you? Yesterday you would have eaten me alive for what I just said. Today all you can say is 'Thank you'. This isn't the Katniss Everdeen I brought here to the Capitol."

"I spent a lot of time last night discovering who I really am. And you are right … up to a point. I needed to change if I'm to stand any chance of survival in the arena. So I'm changing."

Haymitch still seems bemused, but I'm not going to enlighten him any more. I leave the table and change into my training clothes ready to go downstairs. When I return to the main room, Haymitch is still at the table, helping himself to more breakfast. Before I can leave, Effie comes up in the elevator and enters our apartment in a very unseemly rush.

"Oh! Oh! Thank goodness! You're here!" she blurts out. It's not immediately apparent whether she means Haymitch or me.

"Well, hello, darling! I didn't know you yearned for my presence. What can I do for you?" replies Haymitch in his usual offhand manner.

"Not you, Haymitch. Katniss! There is a rumour spreading among the tributes that you have run away and the peacekeepers are looking for you. When Peeta said he hadn't seen you this morning, I feared the rumour was correct, even though I knew it was unlikely."

"Well, I'm here. I was in my room when the eight o'clock security check was due. Who is spreading this rumour?"

"I don't know. Most of the tributes are talking about it but I don't know who started the rumour or why. But you are here. That's what matters. Let's go downstairs and prove the rumour is a lie."

"OK. I was on my way there when you arrived," I reply.

"No. Wait," says Haymitch. "We need to find out who is behind this rumour. It could be an underhand trick to discredit Katniss and reduce her score at this afternoon's assessment. Let me talk to the Gamemaker on duty first."

I suppose I should tell Effie and Haymitch that I'm fairly certain it is Clove and Cato who are behind the rumour, but I don't feel like facing the barrage of questions that will follow my revelation. I keep quiet while Haymitch abandons his breakfast and goes downstairs.


	8. 2-2 How about now?

2.2: How about now?

Haymitch returns fifteen minutes later. Effie has calmed down, although she's still fairly tense. I, on the other hand, I feel quite calm and collected.

"The Gamemaker doesn't know why the rumour about Katniss has started but it isn't unusual for all sorts of rumours to start flying about at this stage of the training. The Gamemaker confirms Katniss is recorded as present during all the security checks so far, so the rumour is without foundation."

"So Katniss only needs to appear downstairs for the rumour to be quashed," replies Effie.

"Yes. But whoever started the rumour must have a purpose," muses Haymitch. "They must have known the rumour would be discredited, so why start it in the first place? Perhaps they have some plan in mind. By going downstairs, Katniss may be walking into their trap."

"Well, I'm not going to hide up here all morning," I reply. "If it's a trap then maybe I can turn the tables on them."

"That's going to be difficult if you don't know who is responsible for the rumours," cautions Haymitch.

"Unless you suspect Peeta of starting the rumours, then I'm fairly certain it is Clove and Cato who are behind them. Something I overheard Clove saying to Cato makes me sure it's them."

Fortunately neither Effie or Haymitch question me further on the topic. I go down the elevator with Effie and report for training. I'm over an hour late. Since these training sessions aren't mandatory, none of the Training Centre staff care that I've missed the first session.

"The second session starts in five minutes," says the trainer stopping me outside the door to the main training room. "The final two sessions are individual training in separate rooms. You may as well go straight there. Yours is room 12F along the corridor over there. You can practise the demonstration you intend to give the Gamemakers this afternoon."

I'm both annoyed and relieved at these arrangements. My confrontation with Cato and Clove will have to be postponed until later. But that may work to my advantage. The longer they believe I'm missing, the more foolish they will look when they and the other tributes see me.

I finish my training early and head back to our apartment for lunch. Peeta joins me half an hour later. He must have heard the rumours but he makes no mention of them. If he is relieved to see me he disguises his feelings well. All I get is a subdued 'hello' and very little conversation through lunch. Which is fine by me as there isn't much I want to say to Peeta at this stage of the proceedings. Despite the common bond of our home and families, there's no escaping the fact that in a couple of days we will be in the arena trying to kill each other.

Neither Haymitch nor Effie join us for lunch so there is no reason to stay in the living room. After lunch Peeta and I go to our separate rooms to rest before our five o'clock appointment with the Gamemakers. That's nearly four hours to kill. I don't think I can read a book or watch television for that length of time. Not when I may have only a few days left to live.

The urge to do something gets the better of me. I rummage through the clothes in the drawers and find what I'm looking for. A swimming costume. I'm not certain if it is the pleasure of the warm water or my memories of last night that are drawing me back to the swimming pool, but my mind is made up. I invite Peeta to join me but he declines. He's in a funny mood and I'm not certain I want to find out why. I decide to let Haymitch and Effie deal with Peeta's mood swings.

Unlike last night the swimming pool complex is in use, and about twenty people are swimming in the main pool. Avox attendants are on duty and a mixture of trainers and administration staff are enjoying the various pools. I change into my costume and enter the main pool. The memories of last night and the warmth of the water help sooth my nervousness about the assessment in a couple of hours.

I've been swimming for fifteen minutes when someone I recognise enters the complex. Cato! He must have completed his assessment and has the rest of the afternoon free. He doesn't look in my direction and heads straight for the changing rooms. I wait to see if Clove is close behind, but Cato is alone. What should I do now? The safest option would be to leave at once and change back into my clothes in my apartment. But something holds me back and makes me want to confront Cato. Besides, this is a good opportunity to tackle Cato without the risk of Clove interfering.

A short while later Cato dives into the pool. I keep low in the water to reduce the likelihood of him noticing me until he is too close to avoid me. My plan works and I gain a small degree of pleasure when he misses his stroke and takes a mouthful of water as soon as he recognises me.

"If you want to drown yourself, then at least wait until we are in the arena," I say over his coughing and spluttering. "That way you will save the Gamemakers the trouble of replacing you. Not that you seemed concerned about troubling them last night."

"You! … How did you get in here? Aren't the peacekeepers hunting you?"

"You shouldn't believe idle rumours. Particularly those you invented yourself. Or is Clove the instigator of the falsehoods about me?"

"I had nothing to do with chaining you to that table. That was Clove's doing. Not that I expect you to believe me."

"Actually I do believe you. I was only pretending to be asleep when you left. Which means I know you didn't exactly leap to my defence when Clove locked that chain on my ankle. You have some serious grovelling to do before I'll forgive you for that."

"Why would I want your forgiveness? I don't agree with what Clove did, but I wasn't going to fight with her on your behalf. What you and I enjoyed last night isn't likely to be repeated. In some ways I'm sorry you escaped because it means we must now face each other in the arena."

"I shall deal with Clove in due course, but despite everything I did enjoy your company last night. You and I need not part company so soon; unless that is what you want."

"What an intriguing girl you are. I am tempted to take up your offer. When do you propose we continue our liaison? I don't know about your appointment diary, but mine seems a bit crowded with activities for the next few weeks."

"How about now?"

"In front of all these people? I really have misjudged you. Here I was thinking you were a sweet innocent girl. I was anticipating you wanting a more private venue."

"They seem to be in short supply at the moment. How long can you hold your breath?"

"I don't know. A minute or so, I suppose. Why?"


	9. 2-3 A confused tangle of emotions

2.3: A confused tangle of emotions.

"Because the bottom of the pool is unoccupied at the moment and I doubt the other swimmers or the security cameras can see down there."

"Errr … I don't know if that's a good idea. The guards will be alerted if we stay down too long. Besides, I prefer to lead up gradually to these things. I'm not a machine. I don't like rushing things before we are both ready."

"Really? I am impressed although I can't say I noticed any lack of speed last night. That's very considerate of you, Cato. I must learn to follow your example. Would you care to teach me?" I say in what I hope is a seductive tone.

"Sure," he replies. "Although based on last night's performance, I'm not certain you need any lessons. Our meeting here last night was unexpected and I thought to take advantage of you. Now I know differently and want to enjoy your company."

We've slowly moved closer to each other as we've been talking. We are only centimetres apart but neither of us seems willing to be the first to touch the other. My own mind is battling a mixture of feelings. I'm still angry with him for abandoning me last night, but I should have realised his loyalty to Clove will be stronger than any feelings he has towards me. Besides, anger isn't the strongest feeling I'm battling. More primal urges are returning. Ones which I experienced last night and which raised me onto a different level of sensuality.

"What time is your assessment?" asks Cato, breaking the heavy silence between us.

"I must report at five o'clock. We have plenty of time, if that's your concern."

"And what if I were to detain you long enough for you to miss your assessment?"

"Are you trying to seduce me? Or do you have more dirty tricks in mind? You know the consequences of missing the assessment session as well as I. I will be given the lowest possible score. Not that I expect them to give me more than a mediocre score anyway. A five or a six at best. Nothing as good as the nine or ten you Careers normally achieve."

"Don't under-estimate yourself. Your courage in volunteering for your sister should earn you at least a seven. Regrettably your performance in my company last night doesn't count for any marks in the Gamemakers eyes, but if it were up to me I'd award an extra couple points for that alone."

"So what do you have in mind that might make me miss my assessment? Nothing involving chains I hope."

"Ha ha ha! … No. That's more Clove's style. She likes her victims helpless and at her mercy. Me? I prefer mine to willingly surrender themselves to their fate. Just like you did in the hot pool last night."

"That's not how I remember it. You make it sound as though it was your plan for me to come out of hiding and allow you to find me before your time was up?"

"Yes. And it worked. Had you remained hidden, I would have known you were not really mine for the taking and would have left you alone. But you surrendered yourself and we both gained what we each wanted."

Now Cato has set my mind into a confused tangle of emotions. At one level I want to deny everything he just said. I won our contest here in the pools last night. He conceded defeat. But to listen to him now, he is making me believe I did so because I wanted him to seduce me. Unfortunately, another part of my mind is confirming that is exactly what happened. It is exactly what I wanted … well, apart from being chained to the table.

"So what are you proposing now? That I surrender myself to you this afternoon and skip my assessment?" I scoff.

"That would be an interesting challenge and one worthy of my skills, but somehow I don't think you are so desperate for my company that you would go that far."

"Has anyone ever told you how conceited you are?" I reply light-heartedly. In truth, his boasting is only increasing my desire to be with him.

"Frequently. But don't let that distract you from falling at my feet and pleading for my attentions."

I take a playful swing at him but he catches my wrist and pulls me towards him. Before I can react his lips are pressed to mine. My body instantly betrays me and moulds itself into his embrace. It's only a brief kiss. The sort that leaves you wanting for many more. But I suspect that is his game. He wants to control our embrace. To decide when we kiss and for how long. I do what feels like the impossible and break our embrace … well, after three more delicious kisses.

"Is this the best you can do?" I taunt Cato. "I'm not going to miss my assessment for the sake of a kiss and cuddle."

"Hah! Of course you won't. This is just to warm you up. To hint at the delights that await you if you truly surrender yourself to me. You had a glimpse of the possibilities last night. At least until Clove interfered."

What kind of adventure is Cato hinting at? I find it hard to believe that last night was only a prelude to even more intense emotions. When we coupled I felt as though I was going to explode with pleasure. Is he promising even greater treats? Or is he seducing me with false promises?

"I'm still waiting to hear how you propose to lure me into your snare. I may not be experienced in this sort of thing, but I know I'm not some weak-kneed girl who swoons at the prospect of being alone with you."

"I agree! Last night you proved yourself with flying colours. Had you revealed yourself to be some blushing maiden who is all talk and no action, then we wouldn't be having this conversation now. My proposal is simple. Tonight our mentors are throwing Clove and I a private party in our apartment. A party that will include a few guests from the Capitol. If you want to spend some time with me tonight, then all you need to do is mingle with those guests when they arrive and be admitted to the party."

"I can hardly pass as someone from the Capitol. I have 'district girl' virtually tattooed across my forehead."

"I didn't say you would find it easy. It will present you with a few challenges. But I promise you the effort will be worth your while. And don't worry about blending in with the guests. They are all young women not much older than you, and they won't be wearing many clothes. You should fit right in."

"Prostitutes?! You want me to mingle with prostitutes?"

"No. Not prostitutes. Potential sponsors … or at least their daughters. You have no idea how desirable a potential Hunger Games victor is to the people in the Capitol. They would literally sell their daughters to have the victor associated with their family."

"And does Clove get some male company to fawn over her?"

"Her tastes are more inclined towards your gender than mine, if you follow my meaning. But she is taking care of her own interests. So what do you say to my offer?"

"What an unusual invitation. I don't know whether to feel flattered or offended. I'm not saying I will … and I'm not saying I won't … attend your party."

"Well, if you don't you can have a good night's sleep and I'm sure I shall console myself in the arms of one … or several … of our party guests."

The arrogant pig! I should walk … or more precisely, swim … away now. But fool that I am, I don't. What's wrong with me?


	10. 2-4 You only need to say my name

2.4: You only need to say my name.

"But I still don't understand how all this is going to stop me attending my assessment on time," I say.

"Gaining entry to our party isn't going to be easy. The security will be tight, especially after the guards made that mistake with us last night. I can give you a few helpful hints this afternoon if you can make it worth my while. Of course you will have to decide how long to stay here with me. Is a late arrival at your assessment going to be worth the additional hint I can give you? Will missing your assessment entirely be worth a guaranteed entry to the party?"

"That hardly seems fair. How do I know the hints you intend to give me will be of any value at all? And what do I need to do to gain these hints?"

"That's the gamble you must take. You won't know if the hints are of any value until you use them. But without them you stand very little chance of gatecrashing the party. As for what you need to do … why don't you use your imagination?"

If I had any sense I would leave at once and return to my apartment. Cato is a master at seducing naïve girls. I'm playing in very dangerous waters. He is toying with my emotions and I'm lapping it all up like a love-struck schoolgirl. But what he is saying makes the whole encounter all the more exciting. An excitement that makes me feel so alive and … desirable? I've never had anyone look at me and touch me in the way Cato has done. I just want more and more of it. Even though common sense tells me to turn back, the lure of further delights just keeps drawing me onwards.

My immediate challenge is to prize the first hint from him. Then perhaps I can judge its worth and decide whether to continue. But he's mistaken if he thinks I will miss my assessment. I'm not so far under his spell that I've lost all common sense. I dive down under the water, grab his feet and pull. Cato stumbles backwards and finds himself under the water. Before he can regain his balance and surface, I've repositioned myself and am kissing his lips.

Cato struggles a bit, seemingly desperate for air. But I don't relent with my kiss and he can't use his strength to break my hold while we are swimming under water. I sense when he is really in need of air and it takes only a second for us to break the surface and fill our lungs with life giving air.

"That was a dangerous thing to do," says Cato when he regains his breath. "What did you think you were doing?"

"Reminding you that I'm an equal partner in our liaison. Just because I allow you to take advantage of my body doesn't mean I won't face you in the arena and fight you to the death," I say boldly. I'm in trouble if Cato realises my bravado is more to reassure myself than to deter him from going too far.

"You are full of surprises," he concedes. "Each time I think I understand you, I find I've a far harder task before me. You are truly a worthy challenge. But you haven't earned your first hint yet."

I was beginning to worry that I was falling helpless under Cato's charms, but his admission fills me with pride and determination. Now I feel more confident in my actions. I'm ready to seize the moment and turn his conceit against him. I swim towards him until we are touching and gently run my hands down his chest, across his abdomen and lower still. Here in the pool last night it was a case of look but don't touch. This afternoon it is touch but don't look. I can't believe I found the nerve to do this. I don't think Cato can believe it either.

"Careful," murmurs Cato onto my ear. "We aren't alone."

I do my best not to show my total inexperience in what I'm doing. Fortunately Cato's ever changing response is guiding me towards the right actions. I must be doing something right as Cato's sighs are urging me onwards.

"Careful, girl," sighs Cato after a minute of my attention. "I can't take much more of this."

"Girl? I have a name. If you want me to stop, then ask me by name," I reply, working harder with my hands.

"Oooh! … Aaah! … Please stop," he whispers.

I ignore his pleas. If he really wanted me to stop he could grab my hands and force them away. But even so, I realise he is losing his self control. The throbbing beast in my hands is arousing both of us and I'm not certain I could stop if Cato demanded.

"My name. You only need to say my name and I'll stop," I tease.

"Alright! Alright! … I'm sorry! … I don't know your name," he sighs in between his short breaths.

"I didn't think you did," I laugh. "There's a punishment for that. What's it to be? A hint for tonight's party? Or do I continue with what I'm doing?"

"Ok! Ok! You get a hint. Just stop."

"No. The hint first. Then I stop."

I'm not certain why he doesn't just make me stop. Perhaps he isn't as helpless as he appears.

"The six guests are meeting at the reception desk in the main Training Centre lobby at eight-thirty and will be escorted up to our apartment once they have all arrived. You will need to take the place of one of them somehow."

"Thank you, Cato," I kiss him while my hands continue to work their magic. His obvious pleasure at my actions is making it hard for me to keep my promise. After a few seconds he grabs my hands and forces me to stop.

Having achieved what I've only ever fantasised about doing, I don't know what to do next. Cato pulls me closer and gives me a passionate kiss. I'm a uncertain what to do with my hands now they are no longer occupied. Cato removes my uncertainty and lifts my hands to his mouth to kiss them.

"I owe you an apology," I mumble. "I couldn't stop myself as I promised."

"I am in a forgiving mood, but you shall have to work doubly hard for your next hint. Now go and find a vacant hot pool while I go to the changing room. I shall join you shortly."

He's back to giving me orders but I'm feeling too aroused to make an issue of it. I do as he instructs. The clock says I have another hour and a half to indulge in these pleasures before I must report for the assessment.

The swimming pool complex is huge and I have no difficulty in finding a vacant room where Cato and I can enjoy ourselves. I don't doubt we are being monitored by the security cameras but after last night I no longer fear their prying lenses.

My only regret is my choice of swimming costume. My single piece bathing suit isn't the best choice for the sorts of games I'm hoping Cato has in mind. My actions have shown him my eagerness to push the boundaries. His refusal to stop me until it was almost too late only confirms his complicity in our game.

I don't need to wait long for Cato to find me. He's wearing a towel around his waist and I strongly suspect nothing underneath.


	11. 2-5 Wait for my reward

2.5: Wait for my reward.

I make my five o'clock appointment with two minutes to spare. Peeta is waiting for me in the assessment room ante-chamber. Despite his nonchalance he was clearly starting to wonder about my prolonged absence.

"Sorry I'm late," I say, even though I don't really owe him an apology. "I lost track of time."

"Haymitch and Effie are out searching for you," he replies. "You should have let them know where you were."

"I went for a swim in the swimming complex. I've been in the hot pools for the last hour or so. I told you where I was going before I left our apartment. "

"Which is where I told Haymitch you were but he didn't believe me. The security guards refused to confirm you were there, nor would they allow Haymitch to search the complex. Ah! … here he is."

"Where the deuce have you been, sweetheart? I was about to have the place turned upside down looking for you."

"I'm fine. I just lost track of time. I value your help, Haymitch, but I don't need mothering. I'm sorry if I caused you concern. Peeta told you where I was and it isn't my fault the security guards wouldn't confirm I was where I said I would be."

"Hmmm … Well … OK … I suppose," mutters Haymitch, clearly not happy he hasn't proved me to be as irresponsible as I have in fact been. We don't have time for further discussion and he leaves Peeta and I to perform our assessment routines in front of the Gamemakers.

After our evening meal we are all gathered together to watch the televised announcement of our assessment scores. I sneak a look at my watch every few minutes. I've an hour before I need to be down in the reception lobby dressed ready for the District Two party. I managed to prize four hints out of Cato and left him a contented man for the moment. While I enjoyed this afternoon with him, it also left me frustrated. The taking and giving of pleasure was heavily biased in his favour. Cato made it clear I must wait until the party for my reward.

When Caesar Flickermann announces the Gamemakers have awarded me a score of eleven we erupt in astonishment. But once the euphoria has died down I realise how withdrawn Peeta has become.

"What's wrong Peeta?" asks Effie. "Your score of seven is a good one. Haymitch and I will be able to find you sponsors. The Gamemakers rate you a better than average bet."

"Yeah! Only just. Mr. Average. That's me. Unfortunately a Hunger Games victor needs a better than average performance. I'm glad for you Katniss. District Twelve stands a chance of a victor this year. Please don't think ill of me if I say I'm not overjoyed at the prospect of dying without sampling the joys life has to offer."

"You mean you don't want to die a virgin? Is that it?" I say, slightly annoyed at Peeta's self-pitying tone.

"Er … um … Among other things. But, yes, I don't want die without knowing what it is like to make out with a girl. … Sorry … I know that sort of talk embarrasses you. I'll leave you all to your celebrations."

Peeta goes to his room. The television show has finished and Haymitch and Effie are anxious to get away so they can begin work on mustering sponsors now the assessment scores are announced. My score of eleven has clearly opened new opportunities for sponsors. Even Peeta's score of seven is better than they anticipated.

"I shall be out of the apartment for most of the evening. I'll be back late," I say before Haymitch and Effie leave. I owe it to them not to do another disappearing act on them. "I'll stay inside the Training Centre though." Effie looks alarmed at my announcement, but Haymitch just nods and says 'OK'.

I've only ten minutes to change. Fortunately I showered and quickly washed my hair straight after our meal. Changing doesn't take long. One of Cato's hints gave me enough information to plan my attire from the wardrobe available to me. As Cato said at the outset, clothing is almost optional. Fortunately all the girls will be wearing coats over their outfits. I begin to wonder if it is a party or an orgy I'm going to. To be honest, I'm more than a little nervous about how I am going to cope. I want to be with Cato, but the prospect of sharing his attentions with other girls doesn't sit comfortably with me.

Thanks to Cato's hints, my plan has worked so far. I present myself at the side room set aside for the party guests to assemble. Next will come the hardest part of my plan. I need to persuade one of the guests to quietly withdraw from the party so I can replace her. Cato suggested a hint on who to target was on offer if I delayed my arrival for my assessment until I was five minutes late. I decided a prompt arrival for my assessment was more important and now must take my chances and pick my own target.

The guests arrive singly. The first is a girl a year or so older than me with long blond hair. She has the superior look of someone from the Capitol. She makes no effort to greet me and she sits on the opposite side of the room. The second, third and fourth girls are equally aloof. I'm starting to wish I'd taken Cato's extra hint and arrived late for my assessment.

By now I realise these girls are not the most attractive young women I've seen in the Capitol. Not that I'm a raving beauty myself. But the people of the Capitol place great importance on their looks and these girls are hardly the pick of the crop. Perhaps that's why they are enduring what is little better than a cattle market. Their parents must be willing to trade their least attractive offspring for an outside chance at fame and fortune by making a match with a Hunger Games victor. To me that would seem a foolish gamble, but I don't know what drives these people.

The fifth girl arrives and I immediately see my potential target. Unlike the others she clearly doesn't want to be here. I walk over to her.

"Hi, I'm Kat," I say. "Is everything alright? You don't look happy to be here."

"Um … Hi … I'm Sheba … Bathsheba actually, but only my parents ever use my real name. And no. I don't want to be here. But my parents said I must prostitute myself with a tribute tonight or they would marry me off to my slime ball of a third cousin."

"They told you to prostitute yourself?" I say in genuine shock.

"Um … not in so many words, but that was their meaning. They know how I loath my third cousin. He's been trying to get his paws on me since I was twelve."

"Did your parents specify any particular tribute?" I ask.

"No. Male or female. They don't care. Providing I return with a letter confirming the tribute was satisfied with my company, the tribute gets my father as a sponsor and I get another six months grace to find a husband. But with six of us here tonight I don't stand much chance. I hear the boy is an arrogant peacock and the girl is into whips and chains."

"Yes, that sounds like Cato and Clove. Perhaps I can help you. I know one of the other tributes. He would probably appreciate some feminine company from someone such as you."

I almost laugh out loud when she leaps at my offer. I quickly bustle her out of the room and up to our apartment. I just hope Peeta accepts the opportunity on offer. I knock on Peeta's door and when I hear a lacklustre 'yes' in reply, I open the door and practically throw Sheba inside. What happens next is up to the two of them. That's all the pandering I intend to do tonight.

I bolt downstairs before I miss the arrival of the final guest. The other girls don't seem the slightest bit interested in Sheba's disappearance. We don't have long to wait before the final girl arrives. Unlike her competitors this girl is pretty. A natural beauty with long auburn hair. I wonder why this girl is being made to take part in this tacky business tonight. She puts on a superior look and sits near the other girls without greeting anyone.

Cassius, one of the District Two mentors enters a few moments later. He reads off the names of the girls on his list. When he calls out Sheba's name I tell him Sheba withdrew and I'm taking her place. After a moment of uncertainty Cassius amends his list. If he recognises me he doesn't let on. Another woman enters while the mentor is making the alteration to his list. She's in her mid twenties and dressed in a smart black leather outfit. She hands Cassius a small bag and murmurs something only he can hear.

He nods and she moves over to where the other girls are sitting. Although there are empty seats she stands over one of the girls and tells her to move. To my surprise, she and the girl next to her meekly stand up and move to my side of the room.

"The arrangements for tonight have been changed," says Cassius. "The party is being moved to the District One apartment and Marvel will be hosting it. Cato and Clove have each made alternative arrangements for tonight.

What?!


	12. 2-6 The woman in black

2.6: The woman in black.

Marvel enters a few moments later and Cassius disappears with the bag the black clad woman gave him.

"Well, this appears to be my lucky night," smirks Marvel.

He calls out the names of the five other girls and escorts them out of the room. They seem puzzled by the change of plan, but Marvel's pleasant banter seems to remove their immediate concerns. While Marvel acknowledges my presence, it appears I'm not invited to the party.

That leaves me and the woman in black. The others have barely left the room when she stands up and moves across the room and sits next to me. I feel slightly intimidated by her domineering presence.

"Hi. I'm Sarah," she says in a pleasant voice. Not at all like the tone she used only moments before.

"Hi, I'm …"

"I know who you are, Katniss. Your face has been plastered on every TV screen for much of the evening. Which leaves the question of what are you doing trying to gatecrash this party? Are you going to assassinate some of your opponents tonight? That would be very risky and not very sporting."

"There's nothing sporting about the Hunger Games," I reply. "Cato invited me to the party and I agreed to come. Now it looks as though he's stood me up."

"Nonsense. Why change the venue of the party? It would be far simpler to cancel your invitation. Anyway, it explains the reason for the change of plan. The District Two mentors aren't going to let you anywhere near a potential sponsor after the Gamemakers awarded you an eleven. I admire your courage. I'm tempted to sponsor you myself. Here, give your mentor my card and tell him to contact me."

I look at the card Sarah has given me. It simply contains a picture of a black cat.

"Um … Thank you. But there's no address on the card," I say.

"Ha ha! What an innocent you are! So delightful. Your mentor will know how to find 'Le Chat Noir'. Just tell him to ask for me by name."

I tuck Sarah's card into my coat pocket and nervously look about the room. Has Cato changed his mind about seeing me because of my assessment score?

"When you see Cato, you must stamp your authority on him," says Sarah. "He will feel uncertain about you now the Gamemakers have given you a higher score than him. Don't lose your advantage by turning into a blushing maiden tonight."

"You have experience at handling this sort of situation then?" I ask.

"Ha ha ha! Yes. You could say that. I was once a innocent young girl like you, but these days I'm co-owner of Le Chat Noir club. It caters for clients with rather special tastes. I'm here to meet a client now. Just watch and learn. But a word of advice; know when to keep your mouth shut about what you see."

Cassius returns with Clove. She is wearing a coat like mine. She sees me talking to Sarah and freezes. The look she gives me leaves me in no doubt I'll be her first target in the arena, possibly sooner. Sarah stands and walks over to Clove and stands a metre in front of her. Without any verbal exchange Clove removes her coat and hands it to her mentor. I thought the clothes I am wearing under my coat are skimpy and revealing but Clove's clothes border on indecent. She wearing a skirt that could be more accurately described as a wide belt and a top so flimsy that one good cough would send it flying across the room. A small black cat motif is printed on both items of clothing. The clothes must have been what was inside the bag Sarah gave Cassius.

"Good evening, Clove. I'm Sarah. You have requested my services for this evening. Do you understand and agree to tonight's arrangements?"

"Yes," says Clove in a subdued tone. She suddenly flinches at the steely gaze Sarah gives her. "Yes, Miss Sarah," she corrects herself in a louder voice.

Sarah nods and signals Clove to put on her coat. Sarah then escorts Clove from the room. "I'll return her here at two o'clock," says Sarah to Cassius. As she leaves Sarah quickly turns to me and winks.

I stand bemused at what just occurred before my eyes. I've no idea what sort of arrangement Sarah and Clove have but my fertile imagination can come up with several possibilities.

"Clove will kill you if you mutter one word about what you've just seen to Cato or anybody else," says Cassius, clearly not happy about Clove's arrangements for tonight.

"I think she wants to do that anyway, but I'm not a blabber mouth," I reply, heeding Sarah's advice about knowing when to stay silent. "Whatever games she wants to play tonight are her own business as far as I'm concerned."

"Hmm. OK. That's a good attitude. … Now I shall escort you to where Cato is waiting. I'm sorry, but I must search you for weapons before we leave this room."

I remove my coat and since my clothes are close fitting he decides a visual check is sufficient. I follow him to the elevator and we go up to the District Two apartment.

"Be gone by 2 am," says Cassius as we enter the apartment. "If Clove finds you here when she returns I can't answer for your safety."

I nod in acknowledgement of his sound advice. I walk into the living room and see Cato sat by the window. I turn to say 'thank you' to Cassius, but he is already entering the elevator on his way out.

"We have the place to ourselves," says Cato. "Clove decided to go out again and the party was moved to the District One apartment. I hope you aren't too disappointed about missing the party."

"I'm most upset," I lie. "I was so looking forward to a decent party and you change the arrangements without even informing me."

"I shall do my best to make it up to you. Let me take your coat. Would you care for any refreshment?"

I let Cato remove my coat and secretly smile when he gasps and stands staring at my outfit underneath. He reaches out to touch me but I grab his hand.

"Not so fast, Cato. We have a few things to sort out before we go any further."

He steps back and looks at me with a puzzled frown. This isn't going the way he expected and I've got him off balance. I shall follow Sarah's advice and show him who is in control of whom tonight.

"Firstly … What is my name?"

"Katniss. Katniss Everdeen," he laughs. "After this evening's broadcast I could hardly not know it."

"Well, that's an improvement on a few hours ago," I reply. "Now, there is the not-so-small matter of you abandoning me last night with a chain locked around my ankle. I think I deserve some serious grovelling from you for that shabby trick."

"I said I'm sorry and explained it was Clove's doing. What more do you want me to do?"

"Don't hide behind Clove's skirt," I say, mentally recalling that very little could hide behind the skirt Clove was wearing when she left here. "You can kiss my feet. Then I might forgive you."

"Kiss your feet?! You're joking, of course! … You're not, are you?"

I let the silence between us continue. Cato doesn't know what to do. He resolves the impasse by taking my coat and hanging it up in the cupboard. I've won a victory of sorts. At least he isn't throwing me out of his apartment. While he is storing my coat I move over to a chair and sit down. Cato returns with a plate of nibbles and silently offers it to me.

"Thank you, Cato," I say as though our previous conversation hadn't occurred.

I can tell his grand seduction scene has collapsed around his ears. I just hope he doesn't take too long making his mind up about my demand. Yesterday I would have pretended it was a joke so we could move onto what we both want to do. Tonight I feel the need to ensure Cato sees me as an equal and not just some girl who is good for a roll in bed.

Cato sits on the couch a couple of metres away from me. He tries making small talk, but his efforts are half-hearted and our stilted conversation peters out. Then he leaps up without warning. I tense in case I need to defend myself. But he sits down on the floor near me and lifts my left foot. Off goes my shoe and he gives the top of my foot a short kiss. Then he removes my right shoe. Instead of kissing the top of my foot he nibbles my toes. The pleasant sensation makes me giggle.

"So, am I forgiven for leaving you alone in the café last night?" he says.

"Mmmm … possibly. Why don't we move over to the couch and you can apologise some more?"


	13. 2-7 What would you like me to do?

2.7: What would you like me to do?

Before I can stand up Cato lifts me in his arms. He carries me to the couch and lays me length ways with my head resting on the arm of the couch. He kneels on the floor by my head and before I know what is happening we are locked in a deep kiss. This is the seduction scene he had planned before my arrival and unless I exert some control over what is happening I will become his willing slave to passion. My traitorous body yields to his skilful hands as they roam freely over the exposed parts of my body. Any minute now those hands will be exploring more intimate territory and I'm not certain I will be able to stop him. Worse still, I'm not certain I actually want to stop him.

Finally he releases my mouth and begins work on my neck. The sensations I felt last night are returning in force. My body arches as his hands start working towards zones that should be out-of- bounds. At least out-of-bounds unless and until I give my permission. The sensible part of my mind makes a valiant effort to exert some control. Not control over Cato, but control over me.

"Wait, Cato!" I gasp.

Last night he would have completely ignored my request and continued his great seduction. Last night I wouldn't have made any effort to repeat my plea. Tonight Cato is a little more wary of me and to my surprise he complies. Which is fortunate as I'm not certain I would have the willpower to repeat my request tonight any more than I had last night. I use the pause to reposition myself into a more comfortable position. In doing so I free my left arm which had been trapped under my body since Cato lay me on the couch.

"You are going too fast for me," I say. "We have plenty of time tonight, or have you other plans for later on?"

"My only plans for tonight involve you and only you," he replies showing a remarkable amount of sensitivity to my needs.

It's not that I'm unwilling or uncertain about tonight. I came here knowing full well our relationship would go much further than last night. My insides quivered with desire when I realised I will have Cato's exclusive attention. Not once have I been in any doubt this is where I want to be tonight. I know our entry into the arena is less than two days away and Cato and I will be enemies … No! Not enemies. Competitors. The Capitol is the enemy.

"You are going all thoughtful on me," says Cato when he notices my distraction.

"Sorry," I reply.

This time I really am sorry for letting my mind wander. Tonight belongs to Cato and I. My hand reaches out for his chest. Without any conscious command from me it unfastens two buttons on his shirt and slips inside the opening. He simply allows my hand to explore. My other hand takes one of his hands and guides it towards my shoulder. Secretly I'm hoping he will take my hint and unfasten the single strap holding my top in place. But his hand moves in another direction and starts playing with my hair. His touch is divine and I respond willingly to his caress. He is far more skilled than I at this sort of play. I feel slightly embarrassed that I'm unable to give him the same degree of pleasure he is giving me.

"I'm not experienced at this sort of thing. Tell me what you would like me to do," I whisper as he leans forward and kisses my neck again.

"Anything? You would do anything?" he whispers.

"Yes. Within reason," I reply. The sensible part of my mind is still with me, even if the rest of me wishes it wasn't.

"Can you dance?" he asks.

Of all the things I thought he would ask of me, dancing never entered into my head. I haven't danced since my father died. My mother taught me to dance when I was little. But my father's death ended all that. Could I dance again, or would the memories of my father make it too painful.

"I haven't danced in years, but I think I can remember how. Is that what you want me to do? Dance with you?"

"Yes. I'll put on some music and we shall dance."

Of course I should have realised there is an ulterior motive to his request. But I'm a willing participant to his brilliant scheme, even if technically I'm the victim. The lively dance music is sensuous and our bodies are almost constantly in contact. I'm not sure if it the desire building inside me or the strenuous activity that is making my clothes stick to me. Our bodies are glistening with sweat and the effect is driving me wild.

As the dance progresses our bodies seem to come into contact more and more until we are moving like a single being. When the music ends I don't want to part. But the dancing is only the first stage of Cato's seduction.

"We need a shower," he says, taking my hand and escorting me from the room. I don't make any effort to resist, even though I know he means for us to share a shower. In fact, far from resist I feel a tremor of desire at the prospect.

I'm neither mistaken nor disappointed in Cato's plan. I've never showered with another person before, let alone a virile boy whose motives are as plain as day. I follow his lead and we undress each other. That act alone arouses me even more. Then we enter the cubicle and Cato sets the buttons to start the water. I don't know if these showers are programmed to cater for a shower for two, but everything about it is wonderful.

When Cato starts soaping me I practically explode with desire as his hands work their dastardly deed. He kisses me and knows he has me where he wants me. Or so he thinks. I'm still in control of some of my emotions and manage to achieve the same sort of response from him as my hands work on his body. It's a challenge both of us do our best to win. Who can be first to push the other beyond the point of no return. I've the advantage of my gender and the evidence of my claimed victory is obvious, whereas I secretly know Cato won in reality.

The shower program ends after about fifteen minutes. We are definitely clean and no trace of the effects from our dancing or from our water games remain. For the moment our lust is sated. But not for long. Neither of us bother to dress and I know full well what awaits me beyond the door opposite the one we entered.

"Ready?" asks Cato.

"Yes, I'm ready," I reply, taking the opportunity to kiss him.

Cato lifts me up and carries me into his bedroom. We have nearly four hours before the sensible part of my mind is needed again. Clove is due to return at 2am and I need to be back in my own apartment before she catches me here. Between now and then I intend to explore all the opportunities this night presents. I was a shy and inexperienced maiden when I arrived in the Capitol. I shall not be leaving in the same state.

I find it impossible to describe the next four hours. If you have never been on a trip to the stars and back it is hard to understand what the journey is like. To describe it as sensational or wonderful barely does justice to the emotions Cato drew from me. Or to the emotions I clearly drew from him. Had circumstances been different I'm sure we would have a longer term relationship. Perhaps one involving genuine love for each other. But we both know that is not to be.

Sensible Katniss rejoins me with twenty minutes to spare before my imposed deadline. I'm glad Cato doesn't resist my move to leave. If he held me back I'm certain I would risk Clove's wrath for another half hour with Cato. I've no idea what she has been up to with Sarah tonight, and to be honest I don't care. But Clove left me in no doubt she intends to kill me given the slightest opportunity. An impression neither Cato nor Cassius, the District Two mentor, have done anything to dispel.

With a final kiss and a sorrowful farewell, I enter the elevator with the most wonderful memories of tonight.

[end of episode 2]


	14. 3-1 Too young to understand

Episode 3: The Interview

3.1: Too young to understand.

Despite it being after 2 o'clock in the morning, I find Haymitch is awake and sat in the lounge of our apartment. He practically falls out of his chair when he sees me.

"What are you doing here?" he says as he recovers from his shock.

"This is our apartment. I told you I was going out," I reply, slightly annoyed Haymitch is questioning me like this.

"That's not what I mean. If you are out here, then who is the girl in Peeta's room?"

I'd forgotten about Sheba. She was the girl I managed to divert away from the party so I could take her place. Not that it was necessary in the end. She and Peeta must have hit it off alright if she is still here.

"Um … It's probably Sheba," I reply to Haymitch's question. "I met her earlier tonight and introduced her to Peeta. They must have discovered they have a lot in common."

"And who is Sheba? "

"She's the daughter of a potential sponsor. She was heading for the District Two party and I realised Peeta might be the sort of company she was really wanting."

"Hmmm … I suspect there's more to this than you are telling me, but well done on finding Peeta a possible sponsor. I don't suppose you rustled up one for yourself in the process?"

"Ah! Yes, I do believe I have," I reply, remembering I put Sarah's business card in my coat pocket. "Here. Her name is Sarah. She said she wanted to sponsor me and you were to call her about it."

Haymitch looks at Sarah's card. The one which contains nothing but a picture of a black cat. He suddenly goes very serious.

"And just how did you meet this Sarah of yours, sweetheart? You promised you weren't going to leave the Training Centre tonight. The employees of Le Chat Noir don't do house calls."

"I kept my promise, Haymitch. Sarah isn't an employee, she's one of the owners of Le Chat Noir. She was here on business earlier this evening. We got talking and she said she wanted to sponsor me. Is that going to be a problem? What is Le Chat Noir anyway? And how do you know about it?"

"Never mind how I know about Le Chat Noir, and you're too young to understand. However, I don't see any harm in accepting Sarah's sponsorship. As long as it is done discreetly. I shall give her a call in the morning. I don't suppose you are going to tell me where you've been tonight?"

"No. Of course not. But I had a good time and now I feel ready for bed. Are you going to stay up all night?"

"I have work to do, sweetheart. Getting money out of sponsors isn't a five minute job, and there are several wealthy people eager to sponsor you. Now go get some sleep. There are all-day rehearsals in preparation for the TV interview tomorrow night."

"Goodnight, Haymitch. Thanks for your efforts on my behalf," I say, feeling slightly ashamed for being so secretive.

I take a quick shower, mainly to soothe some of the many tender spots on my body. Several parts of me received more exercise and attention tonight than they've ever received before. What started as a gentle tumble in bed progressively increased in tempo until we were being quite rough with each other in our lovemaking. I probably discovered as much about myself as I did Cato. My only regret is it has left me wanting to repeat the whole encounter again and again, and I know that is going to be impossible. Still, the warm glow I was feeling when I left Cato returns by the time my head hits my pillow. Sleep quickly follows.

I join an equally sleepy Peeta for breakfast at eight o'clock. He's in a much happier mood than yesterday. Effie has joined us for breakfast and her presence prevents me from making my peace with Peeta for practically throwing Sheba into his room last night.

Effie is busy rattling off today's schedule. I hope Peeta is listening, because I'm paying minimal attention to what she is saying. Nevertheless I get the general gist of the schedule. I'm to spend four hours with Cinna and the prep team trying on my dress for tonight, and then four hours with Haymitch practising for my interview with Caesar Flickerman. If I'm lucky I'll get a ten minute break for lunch between sessions.

We have nearly finished breakfast by the time Haymitch joins us. My appointment with Cinna is in twenty minutes, while Peeta's first session is with Haymitch. I still haven't had a chance to talk with Peeta about last night by the time I leave to meet Cinna in one of the numerous rooms in the basement level of the Training Centre. Cinna arrives on time and, to my surprise, he is alone.

"Good morning, Katniss," he says. "Before I let the prep team loose on you, we need to decide what image you wish to present to the television viewers during tonight's interview with Caesar Flickerman. Haymitch, Effie and I have been working on several possibilities but recent rumours circulating the Training Centre may mean we will have to start from scratch. Your public image is important as it can win or lose you sponsors."

"Rumours?" I say, trying and failing to sound shocked. It was too much to expect my activities with Cato would go unnoticed by those with a tendency to gossip. "About my late night swim with Cato?"

"And other activities. None of the rumours name the girl involved, but they fit your description. How about you tell me what actually happened so I can create the right image? I know the sweet and innocent school girl look Effie prefers is going to be a non-starter."

Of all those helping me get through the whole Hunger Games experience, only Cinna carries my full respect and trust. I give him an edited but truthful version of what happened between Cato and I, omitting the more lurid details. He doesn't judge me and only asks a few questions in order to clarify some detail. When I finish my story he just nods and goes thoughtful for a while.

"Have you told Haymitch what you've just told me?" Cinna asks.

"No! None of it; although I suspect he's heard the same rumours you've heard. You know what Haymitch is like after a few drinks. He can't be trusted not to embellish my story and tell everybody in sight. I'm not ashamed of what I did, but I don't want to embarrass my mother and sister by having some sensationalised version broadcast to all of Panem."

"That may be something you and Haymitch will have to work on this afternoon. The Training Centre is always a hotbed of rumours at this stage of the preparations. Most rumours are completely untrue, but they can still damage a tribute's reputation. Unfortunately the rumours spreading about Cato and the unnamed girl make Cato look strong and desirable and the girl a love struck innocent who has fallen helpless under Cato's spell. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the rumours have been started by the District Two mentors in an attempt draw sponsors away from you."

"So what should I do now?" I ask. "If the rumours don't name me, should I pretend they relate to another girl … or are completely fictitious?"

"My advice would be to stand tall and brazen it out. Any other course of action leaves you on the defensive. If Caesar Flickeman hasn't heard the rumours already, we can be fairly sure your enemies will make him aware of them before tonight. You can expect some form of question about your nocturnal activities. Haymitch will help you with the possible interview questions, but I think our conversation has made it clear what image I must create for you. I'll leave you for an hour or so while the prep team go to work on you."

The prep team arrive a few minutes later and give me a thorough going over. It's not my final session with them before tonight's interview, but my various scratches and bruises receive rigorous attention. If any of the team wonder how I acquired so many marks in my intimate places they have the decency not to comment. I must confess that the creams and ointments they apply do wonders to ease the tenderness.

Cinna returns an hour or so later and I'm impressed by his work on my dress for tonight's interview. But the dress alone won't be sufficient if I'm to survive tonight's interview. Somehow I must be able to answer any question Caesar Flickerman throws in my direction.


	15. 3-2 Dancing naked in the roof garden

3.2: Dancing naked in the roof garden.

I have time for a quick bite to eat before my afternoon session with Haymitch. For the first time today Peeta and I meet while we are alone. I try to think of the right way to apologise, but Peeta speaks before I can say anything.

"Thank you for what you did last night," he says. "I don't know how you managed it but Sheba was just the person I needed. And if Sheba was being truthful, I was the person she needed."

"Um … That's OK," I reply. "Sorry if I practically threw her at you, but I was late for the … er … party downstairs."

"Hmm! Sheba mentioned she was going to a party before she met you. But it didn't sound like the sort of party I thought you would be interested in. Sheba made it sound like it was all scantily clad girls competing for Cato's favour. Perhaps the rumour about Cato and some dark-haired beauty dancing naked in a roof garden are true after all?" he laughs.

"Where did you hear that rumour?" I ask. "I'm sure it's greatly exaggerated."

"Some of the tributes were talking during the first training session yesterday. You must have heard them … Oh. No … Of course … You missed that session. Wait a minute. Haymitch let slip there are rumours circulating about Cato and a girl who fits your description. You're not the girl referred to in that rumour are you? Is the rumour true?"

"Of course it isn't. … We weren't dancing," I reply keeping my tone light. "That came much later. But I admit I'm the girl in the rumour. Cinna said there are other rumours, but I don't know what they say. I'm sorry if my attempts to come to terms with the likelihood of my imminent death are embarrassing you. It's very difficult to get some privacy here with all the security cameras everywhere."

"You don't need to apologise to me. I've been feeling the same sense of doom, but expressing my anxiety in a different way. I only wish I had half your courage to defy convention and take what you need. Of course, Haymitch may have a different view."

I can see I'm going to have a difficult session with Haymitch this afternoon. At least the awkwardness that had been building between Peeta and I over the last few days has gone. Although we are not exactly friends, we are back to being pleasant to each other. I just hope he and I don't have to fight each other to the death in the arena.

I brace myself for Haymitch's wrath. I'm pretty sure these rumours are making his job a whole lot harder and he's not the sort of person to suffer in silence. I enter the room set aside for my interview practise. The furniture is laid out like the platform where Caesar Flickerman normally does his interviews.

"Sit down Katniss and pretend I'm Caesar Flickerman," says Haymitch. "I'm going to ask you questions and you need to reply as though all of Panem is watching and judging you."

While I'm dreading Haymitch asking me questions connected with the rumours and my night time activities, he simply asks me general questions about my home and family. Ones which I can easily answer. Ones that make me appear to be an ordinary district girl thrust into the limelight of the Hunger Games. After a while I start to relax. Big mistake.

"Tell me Katniss, is there a special boy in your life?"

I become tongue-tied and immediately know I've fluffed my answer. Cato is special, but do I admit to a liaison with a tribute from another district? Someone who will soon be trying to kill me.

"It's not a difficult question, Katniss. 'Yes' or 'no' will suffice."

"OK. No," I reply.

"So you don't regard spending your nights with a certain tribute from another district as anything special?" probes Haymitch resuming his role as interviewer.

"OK, Haymitch. You and half the Training Centre seem to have heard rumours and connected them to me. Advise me. How do I respond to rumours about me I've not even heard myself?"

"You must be the only person in the Training Centre who hasn't heard them. To be honest, Katniss, I've no idea how you should handle it," replies Haymitch. "The accuracy of the rumours doesn't matter. How you respond is what will make or break you in a sponsor's eyes. In the end it is something you need to work out for yourself. But you need to do a better job than you did just now. Remember, the interview is your five minute chance to gain more sponsors and keep the ones you've already acquired. Nothing else matters."

"Will you at least tell me the rumours you've heard so I know what I'm up against?" I ask.

Haymitch is reluctant at first but eventually relents when he realises I'm telling the truth when I say I haven't heard them before … apart from the one Peeta mentioned. Haymitch reels off the six rumours he's heard, but doesn't push me for a response. The absence of outrage or strenuous denial from me tells Haymitch all he needs to know. Each rumour has a basis in fact, but like the one Peeta told me, is an exaggeration of what actually occurred. Is Cato the source of the rumours? I find it hard to believe he is, but I can see how his prestige benefits from these rumours. Of course the rumours could have spread from several sources. At least four rumours are based on events when Cato and I were in full view of the security cameras.

"Can I have some time to think it over?" I ask, knowing an outright denial of the rumours is not going to succeed. Perhaps Cinna is right and I must face the challenge head on. Haymitch simply nods and stands up.

"I'll go and telephone this Sarah of yours about her offer to sponsor you. I'll be back in half an hour. Be ready to resume the interview when I return."

Haymitch leaves the room while I try to decide how I can best respond to the rumours. They are the sort of rumours that spread like wildfire, with embellishments being added at every telling. It's not just the interview I need to manage, but everyone I meet before and afterwards.

I'm used to being an outsider, so other people's opinion of me doesn't usually worry me. My father's death has meant my teenage years have been spent in a tough adult world rather than sheltered with children my own age. However, I take Haymitch and Cinna's point that my interview tonight must secure sponsors. At one extreme, Caesar Flickerman could make me appear to be a weak schoolgirl, well and truly seduced by a fellow tribute, or at the other extreme, a randy trollop who drops her pants for any passing male. Neither extreme will go down well with sponsors. How can I steer the interview down a safe path?

By the time Haymitch returns I'm no nearer to deciding the correct way to respond to any question about my liaison with Cato. Haymitch doesn't push me for information, but equally doesn't provide much in the way of helpful advice. Instead of resuming our practise interview he switches the subject to Sarah's offer to sponsor me.

"Every sponsorship offer comes with strings attached, Katniss," says Haymitch.

"I know. I'm not completely ignorant about how these things work. A favour for a favour. If I win, my sponsors expect some form of payback for their support. Are you saying Sarah is demanding I go to work for her to repay my debt?"

"No. On the contrary. She's made no demands at all. Which is strange. In most cases I can tell what a sponsor is seeking when they agree to back a tribute. In your case there are enough offers for me to turn down the ones with the less savoury conditions. Few of the tributes I've mentored over the years have been so fortunate. In some respects it is fortunate none of them survived to be called on to perform their side of the bargain. It's an ugly business which you'll get to know much better should you emerge the victor from these Games. "

"So what is concerning you? Should we decline Sarah's offer?"


	16. 3-3 Kat on the prowl

3.3: Kat on the prowl.

"Sarah is offering a considerable sum of money. Sufficient to buy you much needed medication or supplies when those things get very expensive in the later stages of the Games. As generous as your other sponsorship offers are, they aren't in the same league as Sarah's offer. We would be foolish to turn her down without good reason."

"But you are still not comfortable accepting her money. Why? Is it because of her involvement with Le Chat Noir?"

"Partly. Le Chat Noir has a very strange history. Sarah's lack of conditions to her generous offer make me suspicious, but not enough to turn her offer down. However, I need your consent. Sarah may make demands at the last minute and force me to make concessions on your behalf while you are inside the arena. I need to know if you agree to let me do that if the situation demands."

"That's no different from any other sponsorship arrangement. Unless you get the money up front … and that implies a degree of mistrust … a sponsor can always renegotiate the agreement at the critical moment. When you won your Games, what did you have to do to repay your sponsors?"

"That's none of your concern, but it's something all victors must face. But these days there are unofficial rules about what is acceptable and what isn't. The nature of Le Chat Noir's business means I can't promise that you'll find meeting your commitments pleasant even if it is deemed to be acceptable by the rules."

"From what I've seen of Sarah I feel as though I can trust her. At least as much as I can trust anyone from the Capitol," I say, recalling Clove was willing to go with Sarah last night. "Accept her offer, Haymitch. I will cope with any consequences that may result."

"That's a brave decision, but I agree it is probably the right one."

Our practise interview fizzles out into a general discussion about the injustices of life in Panem. I can be fairly sure Caesar Flickerman won't be asking me questions on that subject tonight.

It's not until we are back in our apartment that Haymitch asks, "Are you ashamed of what you did with Cato?"

"No", I reply without hesitation. "Not everything I did may have been wise in the circumstances, but I don't regret what I did and I'm most certainly not ashamed."

"Then don't behave as though you are," he says as he pours himself a drink. "You don't need to justify your actions tonight."

It's the most helpful piece of advice Haymitch has offered all afternoon. Has he only just thought of it, or has he been making me suffer for being so secretive. Before I can push him further on the issue, Peeta arrives and the moment is lost. He's looking very smart and relaxed after his session with his prep team. His time with Sheba last night has transformed him. My time with Cato has achieved the same for me.

After a light meal, I have another session with Cinna and the prep team to finalise my make-up and costume for tonight. Cinna has created a dress that fits my personality perfectly.

"What's with the black cat motif?" I ask, seeing a small but noticeable motif on my bottom of my dress. It differs from the seated cat adorning Clove's meagre clothing last night. This cat is walking … No, stalking.

"Kat on the prowl", Cinna and I say together as its symbolism suddenly dawns on me.

Being the penultimate tribute Caesar Flickerman will interview means waiting nearly two hours for my turn on the stage. It also means I get to see all but Peeta's interview before my own, giving me a chance to observe Caesar Flickerman's line of questioning up close, and how each tribute responds. Unfortunately it also requires me to spend two hours with frayed nerves.

I pay particular attention to Cato's interview. Any question about the rumours involving Cato will surely be posed to him first. Clove's interview is immediately before Cato's and it passes without any mention of her activities last night. It briefly gives me hope that tonight's interviews will follow the safe and well worn list of bland questions. Cato's interview also covers fairly harmless territory until near the end of his five minute slot when Caesar Flickerman asks, "Is there any truth to the rumour that you've captured the heart of a dark haired tribute from another district?"

"Ha ha ha!," chortles Cato, doing his best to make light of the issue. "You've been listening to rumours. It's true that there's a dark haired girl I've been spending some time with. But you'll need to ask her whether I've captured her heart."

"And which of the many fine young ladies is the one I need to ask?" probes Caesar Flickerman. I strongly suspect he already knows exactly which fine young lady to ask. None of the rumours directly name me but several point unambiguously in my direction.

"A gentleman never divulges that sort of information," replies Cato.

In the corner of my eye I see Cassius, one of the District Two mentors. He's clearly not happy at Cato's refusal to name me. Unfortunately it's a noble but futile effort to disguise my identity since only five of the girl tributes have dark hair. Clove is from the same district so is eliminated from contention, and 12 year old Rue from District Eleven is too young to be seriously considered. That leaves me and two other girls, both of whom are clearly terrified of Cato and the other Careers. Hardly potential lover material.

Caesar Flickerman goes through the motions of asking each of the other two older dark haired girls whether they are the girl with whom Cato has been spending his time. Both show horror at the accusation and strenuously deny they are the girl involved. One girl is less convincing than the other, suggesting she isn't quite as horrified at the prospect as she claims. Caesar's failure to probe her further confirms what I thought; he already knows I'm the girl referred to in the rumours. He even jokingly asks Rue if she's Cato's heartthrob, and to her credit Rue handles the question in her stride. Even Thresh, the District Eleven male tribute, gets in on the act and volunteers a denial he is the dark haired person of interest.

Then it is my turn. By now the entire audience must know I'm the girl who has been the topic of conversation off and on for the last two hours. I shake Caesar's hand and sit down. I've still no plan on how I'm going to get through the next five minutes.

The first two minutes pass easily enough. Questions about my family and my volunteering to replace Prim as District Twelve tribute. After my experience with Haymitch this afternoon I know better than to relax. Caesar continues with more safe questions about the tribute's parade on the first evening, and Peeta and my costumes that emitted fake flames. Then I sense Caesar is about to spring his trap. My instincts snap into gear and suddenly I know how I'm going to manage the next two and a half minutes.

"That's an interesting motif you have on your dress, Katniss," says Caesar Flickerman. "A black cat. Does it have any special significance? A good luck symbol for the start of the Games tomorrow, perhaps?"

"A symbol, yes. I call it 'Kat on the prowl'. The hunter stalking its prey. For me the Games started several days ago. I may not have been allowed to harm any of the tributes, but I most certainly haven't been idle. I've been learning the strengths and weakness of several of the tributes. And I've enjoyed my illicit actions. I'm sure you've heard some of the rumours being spread about me."

"Um … yes. But those rumours are more suggestive of a romantic entanglement between Cato and a mysterious girl whom I presume is you. Do you admit to being the girl in the rumours?"

"Of course I'm the girl mentioned. I've encouraged those rumours. What better way to get a boy to confide his innermost secrets than to distract him with an offer of some feminine delights?"

"That's very … um … enterprising of you. So you have no real feelings for Cato? And are you implying there are other boys who have fallen under your spell?"

"You shouldn't ask a girl how she feels about a boy. You cannot expect a truthful answer. As for other boys, you will need to ask them. I'm not the kiss and tell sort of girl."


	17. 3-4 Prepare yourself to die

3.4: Prepare yourself to die.

Caesar is clearly frustrated at this turn of events. He can't probe deeper about my feelings towards Cato without risking a false answer. As for my assertion Cato isn't the only tribute I've targeted, he only has Peeta's interview remaining to test the truth of my claims. He has no ability to disprove my story regardless of what Peeta says. Caesar has the grace to acknowledge I've out-manoeuvred him during the final stages of my interview.

Peeta passes me as I leave the stage and he gives me a smile. "Nice going" is all he has time to say before he enters the spotlight. Haymitch is waiting for me in the wings. I can't tell whether he approves or disapproves of my handing of the interview.

Peeta's interview starts in the same mild way mine did, but it is clear Caesar is looking for an opening to ask Peeta about my assertions about other boys. Finally he works a question into the conversation.

"So, Peeta. You heard Katniss's interview. What have you to say about her claim she has been using her considerable feminine charms to lure boys into confiding their innermost secrets. Have you and she been … um … you know, confiding in each other?"

"Ha ha ha. Katniss is a very special person and I can honestly say she has provided what I've needed in the way of feminine company," replies Peeta.

Peeta's reply is greeted with laughter and cheers from the audience. Believing he has the confession he was after, Caesar moves on to more mundane topics to conclude Peeta's interview. Once Peeta's interview has finished, all the tributes remount the stage for a final salute before we return to our apartments to prepare for tomorrow's entry into the arena.

As we work our way towards our allocated spot on the stage I come near to where Cato and Clove are standing. My only concern after my interview tonight is Cato's reaction to what I said. Some of what I said was the truth, but my feelings towards him go much much deeper than I've implied. His reaction to my interview matters more to me than it is safe for me to admit. Clove pretends not to see me as I pass by them. Cato, however, makes no such pretence. I look into his eyes trying to work out whether or not he is angry with me.

With the television cameras and several thousand spectators constantly watching us, neither Cato nor I can risk saying anything. Even giving a secret signal could be caught by the lurking cameras. As I pass Cato he suddenly moves his foot so that I catch his shoe with mine. I stumble slightly and Cato grabs my arm to steady me. The light double-squeeze on my arm and the look in his eye tells me what I need to know. He wasn't fooled by my arrogant bragging during the interview. I feel so relieved, although on reflection I should have remembered Cato is a master at arrogant bragging and can probably spot a fake a mile off.

Loud cheers and applause from the audience end tonight's show and our respective mentors come to escort us back to our apartments. I'm toying with the idea of attempting a nocturnal visit to Cato's bedroom tonight when Haymitch grabs my arm.

"Don't even think about leaving our apartment tonight," says Haymitch as though reading my mind. "You need a good night's sleep. You have an early departure for the arena tomorrow. In case you have forgotten, tomorrow could be your last day alive. You handled yourself well tonight, but don't let it go to your head. Any one of those on the stage with you tonight could be your killer."

"I haven't forgotten, Haymitch. I wasn't lying when I said I've learned some of Cato and Clove's strengths and weaknesses. Maybe not enough to risk facing them in hand-to-hand combat, but enough to help me avoid trouble."

"Hmmm … If that's so, then good work. I can see why the Gamemakers awarded you a score of eleven. Few tributes realise they must battle for their survival the moment they are chosen in the reaping. Most think the training in the Centre here is to get them ready for the main event. You are one of the few who has realised the main event has already begun. You can win these Games you know. You have a strong natural instinct for self preservation."

"I know we all have a chance of winning but there are twenty four of us entering the arena and only one walks away alive. I shall do my best to win, but I'm no longer afraid of the alternative. I've left a letter in my room for Prim and my mother should I not return. Will you give it to them if the need arises?"

"Yes, of course. But let's not dwell on that. I'm surprised Cato didn't ask you to join the Careers' alliance. At least until the number of surviving tributes reduces. You are far less likely to die in the opening minutes, during the Cornucopia bloodbath, if you have allies covering your back."

"Cato did ask me to join their alliance, but I work best on my own. I don't want to kill anyone, but I will if I'm cornered. My plan is to get away from the Cornucopia as quickly as possible and evade everyone for as long as I can. I'll not be able to do that as part of a killers' alliance."

"That makes sense. But without weapons or supplies you could soon find yourself at a disadvantage. I'm sure Peeta has a similar plan to you. Have you discussed an alliance with him? It's not unusual for the two tributes from the same district to have some form of understanding."

"We agreed not to attack each other, but neither of us feels comfortable with a formal arrangement. Our strengths lie in different areas and they aren't compatible. Peeta isn't the most stealthy of people, and staying hidden will be difficult if he's crashing about through the undergrowth. Besides, neither of us want to face the inevitable break-up and betrayal that usually ends these alliances."

"OK. For what it's worth, Peeta said something similar earlier tonight. Just remember it is never too late to form a short term alliance. Now, can I trust you to remain here while I go to find Effie. Your interview gave her a bit of a shock and she said she had to go and do some damage control. I don't know exactly what damage needs controlling at this late stage of the preparations, but I guess she'll tell us before long. I won't be more than a few minutes."

"Yes. Alright. I promise I'll stay here."

I don't know where Peeta has gone. I notice Haymitch doesn't keep him on as tight a leash as he is keeping me. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm the one who keeps disappearing. I wait patiently and watch the crowds thin out as the tributes depart for their apartments and the large number of staff finish their work and head for home. Within five minutes the corridor in front of me has virtually emptied of people. Suddenly I see Cato and Clove making a beeline for me. There is the look of determination in their eyes. A look which could spell trouble. I hope I haven't misread Cato's reaction to my interview. Or perhaps he's had his mind changed for him. He didn't resist Clove's interference in the café roof garden the other night. Surely they wouldn't be so brazen to attack me here with witnesses not far away.

Clove walks around me and grabs my arms, pulling them behind me so my elbows almost touch each other. The suddenness of her move and her considerable strength take me by surprise. The meek and submissive Clove I briefly witnessed last night has gone and replaced with the lethal killer I've seen before. Cato approaches me from the front and looks into my eyes. I can't tell what is on his mind. I've not seen this look on his face before.

"You had better prepare yourself to die," whispers Clove into my ear in a very matter-of-fact tone.

My alarm must show in my eyes. Cato give me a predatory smile before leaning forward and kissing me. While he is doing so his hands unfasten the laced bodice of my dress and one hand slips inside. His kiss and caress are pleasant enough but Clove's hold on my arms is getting uncomfortable and totally at odds with Cato's actions. I'm more than a little afraid of what is going on here. Clove's grip on my arms from behind and the press of Cato's body has me firmly sandwiched between them. There are people passing along the corridor, but Cato's actions are making it look like we are a pair of lovers enjoying each other's company. An impression that is only reinforced by my interview tonight. What the passers-by think of Clove's presence is anybody's guess. Have I over-played my hand tonight? Is my earlier confidence about to explode in my face? Where's Haymitch? Where are the security guards when you want them?

"Do it quickly," hisses Clove to Cato. "The security guards won't be fooled for much longer."

I hear the sound of running feet further down the corridor. Is this my belated rescue? Clove must think so because she suddenly releases my arms and backs away. But my arms don't remain free for long. Cato grabs my wrists before I can bring them round and defend myself. His lips remain firmly locked onto mine throughout. What's he trying to do? Kiss me to death? In the corner of my eye I can see two security guards running towards us. They are only ten metres away … so near, yet still too far away if Cato were to use his lethal and highly trained skills quickly.

"Ready to die?" he asks when his lips finally pull away from mine.


	18. 3-5 They were just having fun

3.5: They were just having fun.

"Now, Cato!" says Clove from a few metres away.

Cato leans forward and quickly kisses me again before releasing me. He and Clove make a hasty exit just as two security guards reach me. From Cato and Clove's laughter they obviously thought it a great joke to surprise me like that. Perhaps they think I deserved it after my boasting during tonight's interview.

"Are you alright, Miss Everdeen?" asks one of the guards.

"Yes … yes, I'm fine," I reply. "They were just having fun at my expense."

After the shock wears off I realise that although I was scared for a while, I haven't really been harmed. I can't say the same for the bodice of my dress, which has been ripped during our encounter. Haymitch arrives as I'm trying to straighten my dress into it's former glory. The security guards are still debating whether to file a formal report or to let the matter go.

"What's going on?" asks Haymitch. "Has Katniss been causing trouble?"

I glare at Haymitch. How dare he think I'm the cause of the trouble. But his accusation snaps me out of my daze. I take matters into my own hands.

"There's no need to file a report. I wasn't harmed and I shall deal with those two when we are in the arena," I say with as much confidence as I can muster. In truth I'm a little shaken by the incident, but I don't want to spend half the night answering pointless questions when somebody will most likely file the complaint without taking any action.

"Hmmm … Well, OK," mumbles Haymitch as he escorts me back to our apartment. "Sorry if I jumped to conclusions. What happened?"

"Nothing I can't handle, Haymitch," I reply. "Let's just forget about it, shall we? Did you find Effie?"

"No. I don't know where she's gone or what was so urgent. You had best let me worry about that. You need a good night's sleep to be ready for the arena tomorrow. You and Peeta have a seven o'clock departure, so you need to be up and ready by then. If you prefer you can eat on the transport. I'm told it's a two hour journey to the arena."

I simply nod in acknowledgement of what Haymitch has just told me. We arrive in the apartment to find Peeta helping himself to some supper. He's changed into something more casual and I go to my room to do the same. As much as I like this dress, it's too formal to spend the rest of the evening wearing it. As I remove my dress I suddenly see a small sealed envelope tucked inside my torn bodice. It wasn't there when I put it on, so either Cato or Clove placed it there when we had our little confrontation just now.

The envelope has a motif of a seated black cat on the flap but is otherwise blank. I open it and there is a small piece of paper with the words, 'Katniss, Good luck but be prepared for the unexpected. If in need get the black cat to tell you its secret. S'. I read the message several times trying to make sense of the last sentence. If the message has a hidden meaning then it is too cryptic for me to understand. Most likely it is Cato and Clove having yet more fun at my expense? For all I know it's a trick to make be stay awake all night trying to work out the significance of the message. Clove could have stolen an envelope while she was with Sarah last night and created a nonsense message to fool me.

"Are you alright, Katniss?" calls Peeta from the corridor outside my room. I realise my absence has been a lot longer than I implied.

"Yes … I'll be there in a minute."

I quickly change into something more comfortable. It's not until I've rejoined Peeta and Haymitch that I realise I've chosen a silk blouse and short skirt rather than my usual choice for casual wear of cotton shirt and trousers. My taste in clothes has radically changed over the last few days. My feminine side has definitely blossomed in response to Cato's attentions.

"You look … er … pretty," says Peeta, not certain how I will react to such a compliment. It's a justified concern. A week ago I would have probably snapped his head off. Now? I'm no so immune to the feelings that can be triggered inside me by a boy's attentiveness.

"Thank you, Peeta. But don't get any fanciful ideas. Contrary to popular rumour I don't lift my skirt every time a boy says something nice to me."

"I didn't mean it like that," replies Peeta, slightly embarrassed.

The difference between Peeta and Cato is immediately obvious … at least to me. Cato would never have gone on the defensive. He would probably retort with 'so you admit to lifting your skirt to some boys' or something like that. With Peeta I feel relaxed and comfortable; with Cato I'm kept alert and constantly challenged to enter previously unexplored territory. Despite the emotional safety someone like Peeta offers, my instincts lean towards the risks presented by Cato.

"I know, Peeta. I didn't mean to embarrass you. Let's just relax tonight and try and forget about tomorrow."

Haymitch joins us and he, Peeta and I discuss our families and life in District Twelve in general. Any topic to keep our mind off tomorrow and the arena. After a while Haymitch says he must try again to find Effie and he leaves Peeta and I to ourselves. He promises to be here before we leave in the morning. Common sense says we should get a good night's sleep and enter the arena alert and prepared for the dangers ahead. But I doubt any of the tributes will have steady enough nerves to get a full night's sleep tonight.

Peeta and I decide to go to our rooms about ten-thirty and try to sleep. It's an early night compared to the last two nights. I undress and shower before turning in. As I lie in my bed I'm still wishing I could spend the next few hours with Cato despite his treatment of me earlier. I'm still uncertain whether his assault after the interview was intended to scare me, or whether it was all a subterfuge to pass the message to me. Perhaps my affection for Cato is clouding my judgement but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. My only nagging concern is Clove's involvement in the performance. She's never shown anything but hostility towards me and her words implied she was expecting Cato to do more than he did.

After an hour of lying in bed with sleep eluding me, I suddenly sense someone else is here in my room with me. I get up and investigate. My intuition proves me right.

"How the devil did you get in here?" I ask. "After your performance this evening I should call security at once and have you arrested."

"Ha ha ha! You know you won't do that," says Cato. "You will have discovered the reason for Clove and my actions by now. And we managed to knock some of that cockiness out of you in the process. Cockiness leads to carelessness, and in the arena, carelessness leads to death. But there's no need to thank me … unless you want to. As to how I entered your apartment … that isn't something I intend to tell you. But if you wish me to leave, I will do so. What's it to be?"

"You know my answer to that," I say when the flutters in my chest quieten. "Come over here so I can show my appreciation. Perhaps I can knock some of the cockiness out of you in the process."

He hesitates a moment while he gauges the sincerity of my reply. Good. I want to keep him on edge. I expect some serious attention from him tonight if I'm going to truly forgive his part in this evening's performance with Clove. Moments later we are locked in each others arms resuming where we left off last night.

"Are you able to stay all night?" I ask when our initial passion is sated.

"No, I only have a few hours. I must leave before the guards' next change of shift."

"You bribed a guard to let you into this apartment?" I ask, not certain whether to be impressed or alarmed at how Cato gained access.

"I'm not divulging how I've got here, but you need not concern yourself with the subject."

We soon renew our passion, following a similar pattern to last night. A gentle opening is followed by increasingly rougher play.


	19. 3-6 I felt we over did it

3.6: I felt we over did it.

"So, what is the message you delivered supposed to mean?" I ask when we are temporarily exhausted from our physical exertions.

"You will have to ask Sarah that," Cato replies. "Clove was simply instructed to make sure you received the message without the delivery being observed. I'm afraid Clove has a liking for dramatic performances. Personally I felt we over did it, but at least it seems to have worked."

"Why did you go along with Clove's antics? You almost broke my arms in the process."

"I participated because I know how it arouses you when you make me beg for your forgiveness. And if Clove had wanted to break your arms she would have done so. She's very skilled at judging how much pain a person can endure. She was just playing games."

"Remind me not to play games with her in future then. … So you know Sarah?" I ask.

"Yes. I first met her six years ago when she lived and worked in District Two. We've kept in touch ever since, even after she returned to the Capitol. She's come a long way from the trainee hospital technician I first met when I was twelve."

"So what sort of business does she run? What is Le Chat Noir?"

"Ha! You are asking a lot of questions tonight and I think we've done enough talking for a while."

I know what he's angling for me to do. My journey of self-discovery over the last few nights has taught me many lessons. Some of those lessons have highlighted some natural talents I possess. One, above all, is the trick I first discovered in the swimming pool before my assessment by the Gamemakers. While Cato is quite capable of delivering what is needed unaided, I discovered that with the right attention the beast can become a monster. A monster so large that when I first saw the results of my efforts I became worried about the effect it would have on my already tender parts. As soon as I realised my body not only coped, but actually enjoyed, the monster's company, I've been hungry for more. And Cato has been just as eager to oblige.

I suppose it is only fitting that our last coupling is the most memorable. Cato stays as long as he dares before leaving me a well contented girl. And then he is gone. The next time we see each other we will be on our way to the arena … and probable death.

The alarm wakes me in plenty of time for me to wash and have breakfast before our departure. Despite having little more than four hours sleep I feel refreshed. The same can't be said for Peeta who looks as though he didn't sleep at all.

"Could you not sleep?" I ask.

"No. I tried but I could only doze for ten minutes at a time. I spent most of the night reading. You seem to have fared better."

"Yes. I … um … managed about four hours sleep in the end."

Haymitch and Effie join us as we are finishing breakfast. We have 15 minutes before we must report to the departure area. Haymitch and Effie will be staying here in the Capitol to work with our sponsors.

"Everything is arranged with your sponsors," says Effie. Whatever mission Effie felt was so urgent last night is clearly not going to be shared with Peeta and I. "You have no need to worry on that count. You just have to stay alive."

It's a kind but pointless thing to say. The Hunger Games demand only one victor. Even if District Twelve is to be blessed with a victor this year, either Peeta or I must die. Most likely we will both die. Before we start to dwell on that thought, it is time for Peeta and I to leave. We both give Effie our heartfelt thanks for her help and we leave our apartment before the farewell becomes too emotional. Haymitch escorts us to the departure area.

Each tribute is allocated a seat on the transport taking us to the arena. The transport is divided into four compartments each laid out in two rows of three seats facing each other. I don't know how the seating allocation is decided but Peeta and I are sent to different compartments. I find myself sat on an end seat next to Glimmer from District One, with Thresh from District Eleven sat opposite me.

While the solid safety restraints prevent any physical contact between the tributes, it doesn't stop conversation. Glimmer clearly intends to use our journey time to intimidate her travelling companions. She starts on the boy from District Eight sat opposite her. In other circumstances I would admire her skill at the verbal jousting that follows. The boy is no match for her, and her invectives clearly have some effect on his already shaky self-confidence. The girl from Six and the boy from Three suffer the same fate. Then it's my turn.

"Well. I am honoured to be sat next to the famous Catpiss Neverbeen. Catpiss, never been able to keep her pants up, hahaha!"

I decide it would be better to simply ignore her, having seen the devastating effect her tirade has had on her three hapless victims so far. Unfortunately that is easier said then done. Glimmer continues to goad me with repeated use of the derogatory corruption of my name. I'm tempted to hit the seat restraint emergency release and punch her lights out before any of the transport crew can intervene. It would probably get me into trouble but, then, what greater penalty can I face than being sentenced to the Hunger Games arena and almost certain death?

Glimmer has almost broken into song with all her 'never been' jokes when my patience snaps. The emergency release is positioned so a crew member standing in the doorway can unlock all six seat restraints simultaneously. Being sat near the door and I can just reach the release with my foot. I don't hesitate and give the release a good kick. The solid harnesses holding us in our seats fly up and we are free. I turn to give Glimmer a swift punch in her face only to discover Thresh has beaten me to it. Glimmer is flopped back in her seat, unconscious.

As I expected, an alarm is triggered by the release of our restraints and a crew member meanders down the passageway to investigate. By the time she arrives Thresh and I are back in our seats. None of the other tributes give us away.

"Is everyone alright?" the crew member asks in a bored tone as she resets the mechanism that lowers the restraints over us.

"Yeah. What happened?" I ask innocently.

"Probably a malfunction with the locking mechanism. These new craft often have teething troubles."

The crew woman returns to wherever she came from and we are left to ourselves. Glimmer stays unconscious for a while and then starts moaning as she comes round.

"I suggest you keep your mouth closed if you know what is good for you," I say to Glimmer when she recovers enough to understand me. It's advice Glimmer silently accepts.

She's still a bit groggy when we feel the craft starting to descend. We have arrived at the arena. We are disembarked one at a time and escorted to our individual preparation room. I find Cinna waiting for me when I arrive.

As he helps me change into the outfit I presume all tributes are to wear in the arena, he produces a thin piece of sticky, skin coloured tape with a prowling black cat printed on it. He sticks the tape on the inside of my arm.

"What's this for?" I ask quietly.

"Good luck," he replies. "A black cat for luck."

All too soon I must enter the tube that will lift me into the arena above us. The journey is a short one with a moment of total darkness and disorientation. I can smell the arena several seconds before my eyes can take in my surroundings. Each of the tributes is standing on a podium several metres from their immediate neighbours. The podiums circle around a building which must be the Cornucopia for this year's Hunger Games. Several places to my right I can see Peeta, and a like distance to my left I can see Cato.

All our friendships over the last few days are about to come to an end as the large clock projected over the Cornucopia counts down the few remaining seconds before we must start to fight.

How I wish there was another way.

[end of episode 3]


	20. 4-1 A disappearing cat

Episode 4: The travels of the black cat.

4.1: A disappearing cat

It's strange how the littlest of things can change the whole direction of your life. At first I didn't realise the significance of such a seemingly trivial thing. With the benefit of hindsight I should have paid more attention to my discovery when I first noticed it. My excuse for not doing so is simple, I was preoccupied with more important matters. There were less than ten seconds left on the clock before I, and the 23 other tributes of the 74th Hunger Games, would be facing a bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Nevertheless what I noticed had distracted me. As I result I had to change my plan for the opening moments of the Games. Did I subconsciously know what the numbers signified, and grew bolder as a consequence? To be honest, I don't know. I doubt it. My plan to run away from the Cornucopia as soon as the Games started was changed in those final few seconds. Why? All because of a disappearing cat.

Cinna had placed a small piece of adhesive tape on my arm in the final moments before I entered the tube that lifted me into the arena. The tape had an emblem of a stalking black cat on it. Cinna said it was a black cat for good luck. I was running my finger over it as I ascended into the arena. But seconds later, when I next look at my arm, the cat has gone from the tape. Instead there is a sequence of numbers where the cat had been. I must have rubbed the cat off the tape to reveal the numbers below. I check my finger for a stain but there is no mark on my finger. Of course my new surroundings now command my full attention and I put the mystery of the disappearing cat to the back of my mind.

In a heady rush of adrenalin I run towards the Cornucopia as soon as the siren signals the start of the Games. I don't run all the way to the centre where the weapons and the most useful items are stacked. I'm not that foolish. Instead I run towards a backpack with unknown contents positioned twenty metres from my podium. Unfortunately I'm not the only tribute who has eyed that particular backpack. The lengthy tussle for ownership of the backpack nearly costs me my life. Clove appears on the scene fully armed with her favourite weapon; a set of throwing knives. The boy I was fighting perishes and I would have suffered the same fate had my backpack not shielded me from the knife Clove throws at me. At least I now have a knife to help me hunt and defend myself.

I finally escape far enough into the surrounding woods to catch my breath. I check the contents of the backpack and take stock of my position. Most years nearly half the tributes die in the scramble for weapons and equipment at the Cornucopia. As far as I can tell this year's Hunger Games are no different from normal. I move further into the woods before setting hunting traps using the wire among my backpack's supplies. I need to secure food and water if I'm going to complete this stage of my plan. Despite my rashness in the opening moments of the Games I'm determined to keep to the main part of my original plan. I intend to hide as far away from the other tributes as possible.

I spend the night up a tree. A fortunate choice since the Careers come near to where I am hiding. They are hunting in a pack and from their conversation it is clear I am their quarry. Fortunately they never think to look up into the tree canopy. Only minutes earlier the Career pack had killed another tribute. She had lit a fire not far from my hiding place and paid the ultimate penalty for her folly.

While I am resting I recall my time with Cato last night. A pleasant memory to mask the horrors around me. After my persistent questioning, Cato had finally told me what he knew about Sarah, my mysterious sponsor, and her club in the Capitol. Le Chat Noir … a fantasy world where people with enough money can act out their most fanciful dreams and desires. At first I though Cato meant an elaborate brothel where clients could hire whoever they wanted to entertain them however they desired. But Cato just laughed when I said that. It seems Le Chat Noir's abundant fantasy worlds live inside a computer. A client is merely hooked up to the right equipment and their mind manages the rest. Despite it being something I've never heard about before, this explanation at least fits my limited knowledge about Sarah. Cato mentioned Sarah was a technician in a hospital when he first met her several years ago. However, I still think it's a strange arrangement. Haymitch, Cato and many others have somehow heard about Le Chat Noir. And Clove has as well. I saw her leaving with Sarah on the night of the party. Clove was wearing the skimpiest of clothing. Each item of clothing had a small seated black cat emblem on it. My line of thought brings me back to the disappearing cat on my arm. I fall asleep trying to work out the significance of that mystery.

The next morning I resume my journey away from the Cornucopia. I manage to trap a couple of small animals for food but water is still proving elusive. Dehydration is starting to affect me. I must either turn back now while I can still reach the lake near the Cornucopia, or continue on in the hope there is a source of water ahead. I decide to turn back towards the Cornucopia. I take a different route back in the increasingly forlorn hope I may come across a source of water. The lack of water is strange. The trees and undergrowth around me require plenty of water. How can this lush vegetation survive if there isn't so much as a tiny stream for kilometres in any direction? Of course, there could be water nearby and I just haven't found it. But I have faith in my hunting skills. There are no signs of an animal trail or any other clue that might point to water.

Getting near the lake is going to be tricky. The Career pack has set up camp between the Cornucopia and lake so as to be near both water and the unclaimed supplies still stacked at the Cornucopia. Unless the other tributes have fared better, they too will be forced towards the lake as dehydration takes its toll. It could become a repeat of the opening bloodbath as we fight for water.

I approach the Cornucopia carefully. There's plenty of cover in the bushes and trees to hide my movements. Unfortunately it can just as easily hide another tribute. Unlike the Careers I know to look above me as well as around me. That's when I see Rue, the girl from District Eleven, in the branches high above me. She's making her way towards the lake by an aerial route. She sees me and waves a salute which I return. We are too far apart to harm each other and both of us have more dangerous opponents to worry about.

It takes me an hour to reach the lake where I quickly slake my thirst and fill my water bottle. On my way through the undergrowth I had caught a glimpse of two other tributes trying to reach the lake. But they are being more timid in their approach and are hiding well back in the trees. I doubt they will attempt to move closer to the lake before dark. I haven't seen Rue since my initial sighting of her. An urge to see what Cato is up to prompts me to edge closer to the Career's camp. They haven't bothered to hide their camp, relying on their combined strength to protect themselves and their stash of supplies. It is starting to go dark when I finally see Cato. He has a sword strapped across his back and is looking very much in control of the situation. He wanders into the bushes not far from where I am hiding. I move closer to where he is standing. I soon realise he is answering a call of nature.

Cato isn't paying attention to his surroundings. If he was he would have seen Thresh lurking nearby. Cato alone and preoccupied is the opportunity Thresh has been wanting. Brandishing a small sickle he charges at Cato.

"Look out, Cato!" I shout before I can stop myself. It's a warning that saves Cato's life. He dodges Thresh's attacking blow and draws his sword before Thresh can recover for another swing. Thresh sees his weapon is no match for Cato's sword and decides retreat is a better option. He vanishes into the undergrowth as quickly as he appeared.

My only problem now is I'm barely two metres from Cato. Without thinking I have run towards Cato intending to fight by his side. The sound of running feet behind me indicates the other Careers are responding to the alarm I raised. I can't escape.

"Thank you for the warning," says Cato before the other Careers can reach us. "But what do you think you are doing?"

"Um … I've reconsidered your offer of an alliance," I say to Cato. I haven't really, but it is the best thing I can think to say on the spur of the moment.

"Well I've no objection, but you will need to convince Marvel, Glimmer and Clove to accept you as an ally."

On cue, Cato's three allies make an appearance. All have weapons drawn at the ready. Cato grabs me and pulls me out of the way before Glimmer can stab me in the back.

"Stop! Katniss saved my life. She wants to be our ally," shouts Cato. Marvel and Clove lower their weapons, Glimmer does not.

"Only if we all agree," says Marvel. It's clear Glimmer would rather boil me in oil than accept me as an ally. She is still seething over the incident in the transport from the Capitol. I could point out that it was Thresh who knocked her unconscious, but I doubt that would make a difference. Besides, the only reason I didn't do the deed was because Thresh beat me to it.

"No alliance," snarls Glimmer. "We kill her now. Slowly."


	21. 4-2 The cat's secret

4.2: The cat's secret.

I had expected Clove to join in the call for my demise, but she stays silent and lets Glimmer take the lead.

"Katniss is my prisoner," says Cato. "I decide what happens to her."

"Prisoner?" asks Clove. "Is that right, Katniss? Are you surrendering yourself to Cato?"

"Yes," I quickly reply, not certain where this is leading. Strictly speaking I've surrendered myself to Cato several times only a couple of nights ago, but I suspect that isn't what Clove means.

"Well that settles it then," says Marvel. "Whatever you intend to do with your prisoner, Cato, don't disturb my sleep while you are doing it."

"No, it doesn't settle it at all," says Glimmer. "If she's a prisoner then she must be kept tied up and under guard. I don't trust her. She's likely to slit our throats in our sleep if she's not restrained."

We return to their camp. Despite Cato's protest, he is outvoted and I must surrender my knife and allow myself to be tied up. Clove reclaims her knife and leaves Glimmer to the task of binding me. Although simply tying my hands behind my back would suffice, Glimmer opts for something more elaborate. She produces a tent pole and rope from among their supplies. By the time she has finished, the middle of the pole is tied to the back of my neck with my arms firmly bound along the length of the pole in both directions. It is very uncomfortable and I find it very difficult to move about. Glimmer seems very proud of her efforts.

Once it is dark, Marvel and Glimmer leave on a patrol to flush out any tributes trying to use the cover of darkness to reach the lake. Neither seems concerned that Thresh may still be nearby and waiting to spring another ambush. They obviously have confidence in their fighting skills.

Clove is given the task of guarding the camp while Cato sleeps. His turn on watch will be in the early hours of the morning.

"I thought you had more sense," says Clove. "What do you hope to gain by coming here? We will have to kill you in the end. Is a few snatched interludes of passion going to be worth a slow and painful death?"

"I have my reasons," I say, trying to sound as though my actions are part of a considered plan. "Just as you had your reasons for going with Sarah the other night."

"I doubt our respective reasons are even remotely connected. Le Chat Noir and this arena can't be compared in any way. But I know you didn't tell Cato what you saw, so thank you for your discretion. It meant it was safe for me to let you have Sarah's message."

I had forgotten about Sarah's cryptic message to me; 'if in need get the black cat to tell you its secret'. Is that what the numbers are? The secret the black cat was hiding? If so, it doesn't help me at all. I haven't the faintest idea what the numbers mean.

"So what does the message mean?" I ask.

"I don't know what the message said, so I can't help you. But Sarah was anxious that you receive it. She doesn't normally sponsor two tributes at the same time."

"Is she sponsoring you as well?" I ask.

"Yes! What did you think the other night was about? A penniless district girl can't afford Le Chat Noir's prices. Sarah was offering me a treat to help me overcome my nerves. Didn't you manage to do the same thing with Cato?"

"Yes. I suppose you are right. I didn't look at it that way, but my time with Cato certainly helped me in that respect. But why the skimpy outfit?"

"For the same reason you went swimming wearing only a lacy nightie," retorts Clove. "Sarah said it would make me feel bold and daring. She was right."

I don't feel entirely safe in Clove's company. Particularly with my arms bound in this way.

"I know you don't like me but …" I begin.

"Don't like you? What makes you think that?" interrupts Clove.

"Um … Let's see. Yesterday you threw a knife at my back. You nearly broke my arms after the television interview. Not to mention what you said to Cato while you were doing it. You clearly wanted to hurt me when I saw you meeting Sarah before the party. And you chained me to a table in the café so I couldn't return to the Training Centre. Taken together I think it is a reasonable indication you don't regard me as a friend."

"You and I can never be friends while we must face each other in this arena. But that doesn't mean I don't like you. Didn't Cato warn you that I'm attracted to certain types of girl. The sort of girl like you. I've gone to a lot of trouble trying to help you … not that you seem grateful. I'm sorry for chaining you to the table. That was a mistake. But for the record, if I had wanted to kill you yesterday, the knife would have ended up in the back of your neck, not stuck in your backpack. I gave you a weapon to help keep yourself alive. As for trying to break your arms, I didn't do anything that would leave you with any lingering pain. Isn't that true?"

"Um … well … I suppose you're right about my arms. It was more the shock than the physical damage," I concede feeling a little uncomfortable when I realise Clove's closeness to me has more to do with sexual attraction than an intention to harm me. I realise I need to be careful what I say and do.

"Did you enjoy your time at Le Chat Noir?" I ask, hoping to deflect Clove's attentions away from her current move to unfasten my jacket.

"Enjoy it? Hmmm. Not really. I didn't go to enjoy myself. I went to remind myself of why I became a Career. Why I'm fighting in this arena."

"You sound as though you are on a mission," I comment.

"Of sorts," replies Clove. "Cato told me your father is dead and you had to bring up your sister when your mother proved incapable of doing so. Me too. My father is dead. My mother is incapable. At least as incapable as anyone who spends most of her life inside a whiskey bottle. Four years ago she sold me to two men for the price of a dozen bottles of cheap booze. I killed them when they tried to touch me. The judge took pity on me and instead of having me executed, ordered me to be sent to the academy which trains the District Two Hunger Games tributes. That how I became a Career. And why I will never let a man touch me. But I'm not as cold hearted and ruthless as Cato and the others believe."

By now she has undone my jacket and undershirt. I tense; waiting for her hand to slip inside my open top.

"Ha ha ha!" laughs Clove. "Don't look so scared. I'm only playing. I'm the last person to force my attentions onto an unwilling partner. But I do find you attractive. Perhaps another time you might be more willing."

Clove fastens my undershirt but leaves my jacket open. Yet again I've fallen prey to Clove's antics. She certainly has a weird sense of fun, but somehow I feel I understand her better. And understanding her better makes me less afraid of her. But I also feel strange inside. I've never regarded myself as attractive, and I've never had a girl tell me I am. I begin to wonder how I would have felt, and what I would have done, had Clove pursued her amorous advances.

Clove leaves me while she patrols the camp. I use her absence to test my bonds. Unfortunately Glimmer has been very proficient in tying me and I can't work the knots loose. I try lying down so I can sleep, but the pole makes it impossible. I resign myself to a sleepless night.


	22. 4-3 Like a dog on a lead

4.3: Like a dog on a lead.

Marvel and Glimmer return just as Cato is relieving Clove of her guard duty. Glimmer is in a better mood. They have apparently prevented the girl from District Five reaching the lake, although she was too agile for Marvel and Glimmer to catch her. I'm still awake an hour later when Cato finishes his first patrol and checks on me.

"Can't you untie me so I can get some sleep?" I ask. "I promise I'll be good. Perhaps I can shown my appreciation in a more direct manner. Like I did the other night when you visited my room."

Either Cato was already thinking the same thing, or my skills as a temptress have improved substantially in the space of a few days. He unties me from the pole, but insists my hands are bound behind me in compliance with the agreement between the Careers. At first I think his demands are going to spoil our intimacy, but he proves me wrong and takes me on a journey into new sensations. I feel I'm totally at his mercy, which of course I am. But under his skilful hands the feeling isn't unpleasant or frightening. It's exciting and thrilling my entire being.

We are careful not to make any loud noises. We don't want Marvel, Glimmer or Clove to be woken from their slumber. Cato's dedicated attentions are keeping me in the dizzy heights of arousal. I wish I could reciprocate, but my bound hands limit what I can do in return. After a while he skilfully brings me back to earth and announces he must make another patrol of the camp. He isn't so far gone with my affections to lose sight of the dangers around us in the arena. I'm about to protest about him leaving me in a state of undress when he takes a spare length of rope and loops it around my neck. He then promptly pulls me after him as he patrols the camp. He's going to have to do some serious grovelling if I'm ever going to forgive him for leading me around the camp like a dog on a lead. The Gamemaker's cameras are probably recording the occasion. I suspect he knows that and is doing this deliberately to prepare me for whatever he has in mind.

The Gamemakers ensure recordings containing anything of a sexual nature are never broadcast on television. After all, children are watching. Although I suspect the Gamemakers reasons are less about children's welfare and more about not wanting to show tributes preferring to make love rather than war. I may never find out whether Cato parading a bound and trouser-less me around the camp classifies as material banned from the television screen. It's a problem for an increasingly unlikely afterwards.

The camp and surrounding forest are quiet. This is only the second night in the arena and most tributes will still be trying to find a source of food and water that doesn't involve challenging the Careers for the ample supplies at the Cornucopia and lake. Cato leads me to the platform at the heart of the Cornucopia. The weapons which were stacked here when the Games started have all been removed. The crates that contained supplies are broken and scattered everywhere. Anything deemed immediately useful has been taken. A wide assortment of other items are simply left where they fell when the crates were rifled. As I dutifully follow Cato I look for something that may double as a skirt to cover my near nakedness.

"Cato. Over there. The sack. Let me make it into a skirt to cover myself," I plead. I'm only too well aware our actions are being recorded. They may not be broadcast on television, but I've heard plenty of rumours about illicit videos being made from the out-takes of the Gamemakers' recordings.

Thankfully Cato agrees to my request although he decides he would be prefer to turn it into a dress. I don't object. He takes out his knife and slits the bottom of the sack to make a hole for my neck and arms. The material is made from a rough fibre that will probably irritate my skin. Hopefully my undershirt will protect my upper body from the worst effects of the coarse material.

I had anticipated Cato untying my hands so I could slip on the crude dress. I'm sadly disappointed. To my horror Cato takes his knife to my remaining clothes and cuts them away from my body.

"You'll thank me for this later," he says. Really? I doubt I'll forgive this latest outrage in a million years. Cato has overstepped the mark this time. I tell him so using words that would make a sailor blush.

Cato ignores my complaints and I eventually concede defeat and step into the sack. The alternative is to be dragged around naked now my underwear, shirt and jacket are in shreds. Cato pulls the sack up over my body and fastens the sack either side of my neck with two short pieces of rope. The ropes across my shoulder blades are the only things holding my makeshift dress in place. Cato steps back to admire his handiwork. The sack is long enough to come to about mid-calf on me and must be the least attractive thing I've ever worn. It's certainly the most uncomfortable. Despite the sack providing the modesty I sought, I really regret suggesting it.

"A belt would help, I think," says Cato. He removes the rope from around my neck and takes a few minutes to make a rope belt from it. The belt itself is quite impressive … it improves the look of the makeshift dress from hideous to awful. It also raises the bottom of the sack by several centimetres. I need to be careful as I move about if I'm not to give a view of my naked privates.

Now Cato has removed my leash I am able to move about independently. I could make a break for freedom. Unfortunately I doubt I could outrun Cato with my hands firmly bound behind me. Actually I think that is exactly what he is tempting me to do. I try a different ploy.

"After humiliating me like that I hope you intend to beg for my forgiveness," I say imperiously.

"That's what you would like me to do, isn't it?" he laughs. "I thought you liked a bit of rough play. You did the other night."

"We are playing, are we?" I ask, checking his actions don't have a more sinister motive. "How about untying me and I'll show you some rough play?"

"Well, that is possible. But first I want you to thank me for cutting off your clothes."

"And if I don't feel like thanking you for that outrage?"

"Then you stay as you are until you do. Did I mention Clove found a rather pretty cotton dress among one of these crates. I'm sure she'd let you borrow it if I put in a good word on your behalf."

"A cotton dress? Here, in the arena? You're joking!"

"It's true. I've no idea why the Gamemakers would think such an item would be useful. Unless of course a tribute loses her clothes and is reduced to wearing a sack."

"How do I know you are telling the truth? I don't think Clove would appreciate being woken at this time of night to verify it."

"I've never lied to you, Katniss. It's your choice."

It's true Cato has never lied to me, but there's always a first time. It gradually dawns on me that Cato has done all this because he wants me to wear the dress Clove found. Suddenly my emotions go into a turmoil. He wants me to look less like a warrior and more like a woman so he can seduce me. Do I play along with his scheme? My head says 'never' but my heart says 'of course'.

"OK. Thank you Cato. Thank you for humiliating me in front of all the Gamemakers cameras. Thank you for demonstrating your skill at shredding defenceless pieces of material. Thank you for stripping the clothes from my body," I say with an obvious lack of sincerity. "Now untie me."

Cato is true to his word and unties my hands. I take a moment to restore the circulation to my arms before rapidly bringing my knee up between his legs. He doubles over in pain but doesn't cry out. I think he was expecting my move and I haven't hit him in exactly the right place.

"Now I'll show you how I like to play rough, Cato," I hiss, grabbing his jacket and tossing him to the floor.


	23. 4-4 Curiosity and the cat

4.4: Curiosity and the cat.

To a casual observer it would seem Cato and I are embroiled in a no-holds barred wrestling match on the main platform of the Cornucopia. In reality we are just playing. Admittedly we are playing very rough with each other. Each trying to gain a position above the other before allowing our bodies to join. Cato is much stronger than I and wins our contests three times out of four. Not that I mind. The end result is the same and just as rewarding.

At the moment I'm in the loser's position as Cato takes his reward on my yielding body. I look up at the ceiling above me and see a panel. There are numbers below the panel. A sequence of numbers similar, but not identical, to the numbers on my arm. The numbers that were revealed when I rubbed the black cat off the tape Cinna placed on my arm. The two sets of numbers must be connected.

Cato senses my sudden distraction and stops our play as soon as he completes his delivery.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asks.

A small amount of pain is expected in our play, so I know he doesn't mean the many bruises and scratches I've sustained over the last half hour while we have been wrestling. I've inflicted a like number on Cato. Causing a more serious injury would be unintentional, but quite possible. I nearly won our latest contest, and Cato had to use all his strength to overturn my nearly victorious move.

"I'm fine. I was just looking at that," I say pointing to the panel I've seen above me.

"Oh. What do you think it does?" says Cato as he rolls on his back beside me. "I've seen another like it hidden in the undergrowth on the edge of the clearing."

"I don't know. It's possibly something the Gamemakers use when they want to make a change in the arena," I reply as I study the panel from the comfort of Cato's arms. Our wrestling is over for the time being. "Will you show me the other one in the morning?"

"If you wish. As long as I have your promise you won't do anything to break your parole."

In exchange for being left untied I have promised Cato that I will do as I am ordered and won't escape or do anything to harm Cato or the other Careers until Cato releases me from my promise. I'm on parole. I'm still a prisoner, but at least I'm allowed to move about free of restraints. Cato and my only concern is whether Glimmer will agree to this arrangement. If she doesn't then I don't know what will happen.

Cato decides he needs to make another patrol of the camp. I follow behind him rather than sit alone at the Cornucopia. He checks the camp and the trip-wires laid out in various places around the perimeter of the camp. Anyone walking into the trip wire will trigger an alarm. It's a crude but effective means of protection when there is only one guard on duty.

Everything is quiet and Cato escorts me to his tent so I can sleep. It's twenty hours since I last slept and I'm struggling to keep awake despite the prospect of more games with Cato. I quickly fall asleep and don't notice Cato lie next to me when he finishes his guard duty several hours later.

I'm awoken by the sound of Glimmer's voice. It only takes me a few seconds to realise I'm the subject of conversation. Glimmer is not happy about me being allowed to give my parole. Fortunately for me she is outvoted this time, but only on condition that I'm bound when Glimmer is alone on guard duty at night. It's a compromise I shall have to be satisfied with since nobody is asking for my opinion.

Cato persuades Clove to part with the dress she found and she brings it to Cato's tent a short while later. She sees me in my sack dress and promptly berates Cato for making me wear such a horrid thing. I don't interrupt her tirade to point out that it was I who suggested wearing the sack. Clove's mistaken wrath at Cato is a just punishment for his wanton destruction of my original clothes. Clove sees my skin has been been scratched by the sack's coarse material.

"Come to my tent, Katniss," says Clove. "I have some ointment which will sooth the skin irritation."

"No, thanks. That won't be necessary. I'm fine," I reply.

"That wasn't a request, Katniss. A condition of your parole is that you do as you are ordered. I'm giving you an order."

I shrug and follow Clove to her tent. I briefly look to Cato for support but I suspect he is cross with me for not putting Clove straight about the sack dress. He doesn't intervene on my behalf. Once inside Clove's tent she has me remove the dress she gave me so she can administer the ointment she has among her supplies.

I feel strange standing here without a stitch of clothing while Clove rubs the ointment over my skin.

She is humming softy to herself as she applies it to my back. The ointment seems to do some good and the itchiness across my back disappears. I wait nervously for her to move her attentions to my front. But when she's done with my back she simply hands me the ointment to allow me to do the rest myself. In my relief I don't bother to hide my actions from Clove's admiring stare.

"Those numbers on the tape on your arm. Where did they come from?" asks Clove.

"Cinna placed the tape on my arm just before I entered the arena. At first they were hidden by a black cat, but I rubbed the cat off without realising what I was doing."

"Do you know what the numbers mean?" she asks.

"No. Do you?"

"28-75-16. Those are the numbers on your arm aren't they?"

Clove can't see the numbers on my arm from where she is sat and she can only have briefly glimpsed them when she was rubbing the ointment on my back. She is either remarkably observant or she knows what the numbers mean.

"Yes. What do they mean?"

"I've no idea, other than they are the numbers on the back of the metal tag Sarah attached to me when I was at Le Chat Noir the other night."

"A metal tag? It's a shame you don't still have it," I say with mounting curiosity. "It might give us a clue."

"I do still have it. The Gamemakers didn't find it. Do you want to see it? I don't know that it will help solve our mystery."

"Um … yes, OK," I reply, surprised the Gamemakers haven't been thorough enough to prevent Clove smuggling a metal object into the arena.

There's an old saying about curiosity and a cat. Kat is certainly paying the price for her curiosity. Before I can stop her, Clove lowers her trousers and underpants and proudly shows me the small metal tag fastened to one of her nether lips. There's an emblem of a seated black cat on one side and the numbers 28-75-16 on the reverse. Clove is right, seeing it doesn't help solve our mystery. As if kneeling naked in front of Clove's spread legs isn't embarrassing enough, matters are made worse when Glimmer enters the tent unannounced.

"Hah! Sorry to interrupt such a intimate moment, Clove," chortles Glimmer. "When you've finished playing with our prisoner, I have some work she can do to earn her keep."


	24. 4-5 Ambush

4.5: Ambush.

My routine for the next six days and nights is set. I work around the camp doing the cooking and cleaning along with all the jobs nobody else wants to do. We find some large water containers in a crate at the Cornucopia and I'm required to fill each one at the lake and haul the full container to the camp. Each morning I refill the containers so the camp is well supplied with drinking water. The work keeps me busy and is infinitely better than being kept tied up. This way I can explore the area around the camp for more of the panels with the three two-digit numbers. I've found seven so far. Unfortunately none of the panels I've discovered have the numbers I'm trying to find.

I've hidden a stash of food and water in the trees should I need it. I could easily escape and am ready to do so at any time. The Careers have started leaving me alone in camp for several hours at a time while they hunt for the other tributes. Their hunts over the last few days have been successful. There are now only nine tributes, including myself, left alive. When there are only four tributes remaining, other than the Careers, the alliance will end and it becomes everybody for themselves. For the moment it suits me to remain here. I'm warm and fed and as safe as anyone can be inside a Hunger Games arena. Although some of the demands made of me are degrading, I'd rather swallow my pride and conserve my energy for later. Besides, I gave my parole not to escape and despite everything I will keep my word.

My relationship with each of the Careers is a strange one. Marvel ignores me, while Clove never ceases trying to seduce me. Cato and I push our relationship along new frontiers every time we have the opportunity. Glimmer is my main tormentor and I'm wary of her in case she suddenly decides I've outlived my usefulness. She is more demanding and has me doing chores I'm sure she invents just to humiliate me. When she is on guard duty at night I'm required to let her bind my arms and legs. It's uncomfortable but I can cope with her insecurity.

This morning Cato, Marvel, Clove and Glimmer have gone on an extended patrol to the area where they believe Thresh is hiding. Other than each other, they regard Thresh as the most deadly opponent left alive. With the alliance ending after the next tribute's death, they have agreed Thresh should be their final target as a group.

I'm cleaning the remains of breakfast away when I see movement in the bushes on the fringe of the grassy area around the Cornucopia. I move to a safer position and arm myself with a bread knife. I casually move about the camp as though nothing is wrong. As I go to the lake side of the camp, I see a girl come dashing towards the other side of the camp. She's smart enough to avoid the trip wires.

No district girl ever looks well fed, but this girl is emaciated and can't have had anything to eat for days. She goes to where I have just tipped the scraps from breakfast. She devours every scrap she can find. I edge closer and see it is the girl from District Five. She suddenly sees me and prepares to run back into the forest.

"I won't harm you, Finch," I call out, using the name Cato told me is hers. "We have plenty of food. Come and eat. The Careers won't be back for a few hours."

After a moment of indecision, she decides the promise of food is too good to an opportunity to ignore. She approaches me cautiously. I open a can of soup and offer it to her.

"I'll heat it up if you are prepared to wait," I say. She devours it all without answering. I fetch another can.

"I've been watching you," says Finch after she has finished her third can of soup and is eyeing up a fourth. "You've been studying the panels. Have you found the one you are looking for?"

"No. I'm trying to make sense of the numbers. You have obviously seen some. Do you know what the panels do?"

"Each is a marker to where there is door for the Gamemakers to access the arena. It's how they can add and remove the creatures they put into the arena if things start to get boring for the viewers. Given the success your friends have had over the last few days, I doubt the Gamemakers will intervene in these Games."

"Do you know what the numbers mean?"

"It's the panel and door's location in the arena. The first two numbers are the north-south and east-west coordinates of the panel. The third number is the distance from the panel to the door when you walk away from the Cornucopia. I've found one door, but it is firmly locked. I think you need to insert a key or something in the panel before going to the door."

"So if I knew a set of numbers I could find one of these panels and a door into the arena?"

"Yes. If the numbers are genuine."

Our conversation is interrupted by the report of a cannon. It's the signal that a tribute has died. We won't know who until the images of the tributes who died today are projected into the sky tonight. A short while later a second cannon report follows the first. Somehow I know it means the Careers have been involved in a fight. I hope Cato is alright.

"I'd better leave," says Finch. "Your friends may return at any time if they have been involved in a fight. Thanks for the food. I owe you a favour."

I give her a flask of water and three cans of soup. If she's careful it should keep her fed for another couple of days. I suspect these Games aren't going to last much longer than that. Finch runs off into the bushes without looking back. I return to what I was doing and erase any evidence Finch has been here.

I rummage through the remaining supplies at the Cornucopia while I wait for the Careers to return. There is an odd assortment of equipment and packages left in the supplies. I discover some more clothes among a bag of blankets and towels. I pick a sleeveless dress that fits me and I take the opportunity to change and wash my other dress. I wish the Careers would change their clothes as well, since all four of them are starting to smell. I'd even be prepared to wash their clothes for them if it meant I didn't have to put up with the smell of sweaty shirts and socks. I try to find some alternative clothes for each of them but the only clothes I find are too small for Cato, Marvel and Glimmer. Clove is about my size so is easier to accommodate from the small collection of clothing I manage to put together.

It is nearly dark when I hear several people approaching our camp. From the noise they are making it can only be the Careers. There's no such thing as a stealthy Career. Their return is much later than I expected and I was beginning to wonder what was keeping them. I see Cato first and my heart misses a beat. I hadn't realised I had been quite so anxious about his safe return. He's carrying something heavy and I soon realise it is Marvel. I rush over to help them.

"Will you find some bandages from among the supplies?" asks Cato. I run back to camp to do as he asks.

I've found bandages and other first aid items by the time Cato reaches the camp and deposits Marvel on a mat. Marvel has several large cuts on his arms and body. I start to clean Marvel's wounds. He's barely conscious. He must have lost a lot of blood.

"Let me do that," says Clove. "You tend to Cato. He's been injured as well."

I don't need telling twice and dash over to where Cato is busy helping himself to a drink of water.

"Where are you hurt?" I ask. He shows me the cut on his leg and I start cleaning it.

His wound looks worse than it is, but I take care to clean it well before applying a bandage.

"What happened?" I ask when I've finished tending his wound.

"Ambush. We fell into a trap Thresh and Peeta had set for us. Marvel and Glimmer were in the lead. Before Clove and I could reach them, Glimmer was dead and Marvel badly wounded. I followed Thresh and Peeta while Clove tended to Marvel. Peeta was wounded but escaped. Thresh wasn't so lucky."

It's the first news I've heard of Peeta since we entered the arena. I don't know whether to feel proud a District Twelve tribute has achieved a victory, or alarmed at the bloodshed.


	25. 4-6 Kat in a storm

4.6: Kat in a storm.

Another cannon report in the early hours of the morning confirms what I already know. Marvel has died from his wounds despite Clove and my best efforts. He might have survived had we been able to get him to a hospital. He had simply lost too much blood.

The events of yesterday mean an end to the Careers alliance. Only six of us remain; Cato, Clove, Peeta, Rue, Finch and myself. Cato tells me he is releasing me from my parole and I may depart at any time. Clove even gives me one of her throwing knives. An honourable thing to do, although not very wise in the circumstances.

"If it's alright with you I will stay a while longer," I say. "I think I'm on the verge of discovering something important, and I need your help."

"Do you know what the numbers mean?" asks Clove. Cato looks at me as though I have been keeping secrets from him. I have. But if Cato had been more observant and noticed the numbers on my arm he might have discovered what I've been up to sooner.

"Yes. They lead to a door. But I don't know where the door will take us."

"Like those panels we saw several days ago?" asks Cato, remembering our discussion at the Cornucopia.

"Yes. The panels must unlock a nearby door," I reply.

"But if we find a door and escape from the arena, the Gamemakers will know at once and quickly recapture us," says Clove.

"I've a feeling this door is special. That's why we were both given the same numbers."

"So where is this door?" asks Clove.

"Over there," I say pointing to a rocky outcrop near the shore of the lake.

Clove's comment about the Gamemakers being able to track us is a valid concern. As usual they have injected a tiny tracking device into each tribute's arm. After a few weeks the tracker simply stops working and dissolves into the bloodstream, but I've no idea how to disable it sooner. And even if we could disable it, the Gamemakers would become suspicious and investigate. We shall just have to hope we can come up with a way to deal with it.

We hadn't planned on the Gamemakers making a radical change to the weather inside the arena. Within the space of a few minutes storm clouds replace the clear skies we have experienced since we entered the arena. Less than an hour later, torrential rain has all but washed away our camp. We are forced to pack whatever we can carry into our backpacks and find shelter in the surrounding trees. The thunder and lightning makes conversation difficult. Our clothes are sodden and nowhere is really dry.

"We need to leave now while the weather is obscuring the Gamemakers' visibility," I say. "They may even have difficulty tracking us in this electrical storm. It's our best chance of escape."

As if to reinforce my comment a tree a hundred metres away is struck by lightning and disintegrates. Neither Cato nor Clove raise any objection to my plan. I lead them to the edge of the lake not far from where I believe the panel is located. The coordinates of the panel are on the lake shore, with the door sixteen metres inland from the panel. The whole area is a low rocky outcrop with a marshy area in the middle covered in thick reeds. The marsh leads from the outcrop to the lake as though an underground stream emerges from a cave in the rocks and slowly flows into the lake.

Getting to the panel is going to be difficult. The shore on either side is covered in reeds and the best approach seems to be along the narrow marshy strip from the outcrop. Only one of us needs to activate the panel to unlock the door. That's assuming what Finch told me is correct.

"I'm the strongest," says Cato. "I'll wade out to the panel and unlock the door. I just hope you aren't wrong about the location. It seems an odd place to put a panel and door."

I too have been concerned my calculations are wrong, but I've double and triple checked them against the numbers on the other panels I've found. Despite the strange result, the numbers point to this location.

Cato hands me his pack of supplies and enters the marsh. He sinks to his waist but manages to cut a path through the reeds with his sword. The torrential rain makes it hard for Clove and I to see him in the gloom. It is difficult to point out the precise location of the panel and it takes Cato a couple of minutes to find it among the reeds.

"Found it!" cries Cato. "And there's a key in the side of the panel. Someone has been careless."

Careless? I don't think so. Sarah somehow knew this door could be opened. I think we have friends in the Capitol who are risking their lives to help us.

We hear rather than see the door opening. It sounds like a metal grill is swinging open inside the small cave from which the stream emerges. Cato wades back to us and the three of us work our way along the stream towards the cave. It's not a very large opening and we have to pass through the mouth of the cave one at a time. Inside the cave opens out so we can all stand side by side. We have fortunately packed some torches when we abandoned our camp. The small cavern is divided in two by a metal grill, the door to which now stands open. On the other side of the grill is a huge pipe, out of which a small but steady flow of water is pouring into a trough. The trough is open at one end and discharges its load into the stream we have just followed. The pipe disappears through the rock at the back of the cavern.

"Now what?" asks Clove. "I can't see any exit apart from the way we entered."

"What about the inside of the pipe?" I suggest. The pipe is big enough to stand up in and is clearly able to handle a much larger flow of water than is currently flowing though it.

"I don't know," says Cato. "It could go for a long way and be blocked by a grill at the other end. And what if the water flow suddenly increases and sweeps us away? It's raining hard outside and this could be a drain."

"It's our only escape route," I reply. "Sarah gave Clove and I the means of finding this pipe. I think we have to trust Sarah knows what she is doing. The alternative is to go back and stay inside the arena."

"I agree with Katniss," says Clove. "Let's go. I'll lead."

We take a few moments to check we have spare batteries for our torches and everything in our packs is secure. Cato is right in thinking this pipe could extend a long way. He's also right to be concerned the flow of water may increase suddenly if the rainwater outside drains into this pipe. Sarah may not have anticipated a sudden change in the weather."

"We should lash ourselves together in case the water flow increases," says Cato. "It might help prevent us being swept away."

Clove and I see the wisdom of Cato's suggestion and we take a few minutes to unpack the rope and link ourselves together around the waist. We are finally ready to enter the pipe. The flow of water hasn't changed in the time we have been here. We take this to be a good sign. Any run-off from the rain outside would surely have reached the pipe by now.

Just as we are about to enter the pipe we hear voices behind us. We reach for our weapons. The Gamemakers must have realised where we are and sent a security team into the arena to stop us.


	26. 4-7 Kat on a rope

4.7: Kat on a rope.

We quickly unfasten the rope and spread out to give each other room to fight. None of us intend to surrender peacefully. We have discovered a means of escape and intend to take it or die in the attempt. We switch off the torches to give ourselves the advantage of being hidden in the dark.

"Hey! Will you switch your torches back on. We don't have any light."

It's a voice I recognise. Finch! What's she doing here? "Who's with you, Finch?" I call in response.

"Peeta and Rue. Can we come closer?"

I switch on my torch and a few seconds later Clove and Cato do the same. At the entrance to the cave we can see the other three remaining tributes.

"Is this escape a private affair or can anyone join in?" asks Peeta.

"Who said anything about it being an escape?" I ask.

"Why else would you be looking for a door out of the arena?" replies Finch.

"Well it would certainly give the Gamemakers a headache if all the tributes vanished from the arena," laughs Cato.

"And it would also mean they would throw all their resources towards finding us quickly," replies Clove. "One of us needs to stay behind to distract the Gamemakers. If they have a victor they may not devote the same amount of effort into finding the rest of us. Who wants to be the victor of the 74th Hunger Games?"

Strangely none of us want to volunteer despite the promise of fame and untold wealth showered on a Hunger Games victor. On reflection, perhaps it isn't so strange. None of the victors we know live normal lives. The Hunger Games become a constant factor in a victor's life.

We decide to draw lots to determine who stays. We find six similar sized stones on the floor of the cave and Cato scratches an X on one of them. Rue uses her jacket to hold the stones and we each take turns drawing a stone from the pile. I'm the one who picks the marked stone.

My disappointment is visible despite the half-light of the cave. It means Cato and I must part with very little likelihood of us ever meeting again. But I don't complain. I try to convince myself how lucky I am. I fail miserably.

"Wait, Katniss," says Finch. "I promised you a favour for saving my life. If you wish, I will redeem my debt now. I will stay in the arena."

"That won't be necessary," says Peeta. "I'll stay. I should have volunteered to stay. I'm injured and need medical attention. I'd just slow us all down. Besides, I can let Katniss's family know what has happened and perhaps I'll get a chance to meet Sheba again."

I can't stop crying in gratitude. I give Finch and Peeta a huge hug in thanks for their offers. I wish Peeta good luck. The others do the same. Now our plan is decided, we don't waste time. Cato and I escort Peeta to the cave entrance before Cato gives Peeta his sword.

"The Gamemakers may be more convinced you have killed me if you have my sword," says Cato. We make sure Peeta has enough food for a few days. We don't know how long it will be before the Gamemakers realise Peeta is alone in the arena. Peeta offers to remove the key from the panel by the lake so the Gamemakers won't know for certain how we escaped.

Finch believes the rock above us will prevent the signal from trackers reaching the Gamemakers. With the storm raging outside the Gamemakers may assume the tributes are all sheltering in places like this cave. Consequently the absence of a tracker signal might not alarm them. We could have a day or so start before the Gamemakers realise we are gone.

We add Rue and Finch to the end of our rope line and set off along the pipe. We are wading up stream and need to be careful we don't lose our footing in the slippery pipe or we get an unwanted wash. Clove leads the way and we follow as quickly as we can. We have no idea how far this pipe extends. We can only hope it leads out of the arena. And soon.

After two hours of trudging through the pipe we begin to wonder whether we've done the right thing. Then Rue draws our attention to a faint noise ahead of us. The low hum of machinery. Our spirits lift. Could we be nearing the other end of this pipe?

Then we turn a corner and notice daylight in the pipe ahead. We switch off our torches in case there are people at the other end. The end of the pipe is about twenty metres ahead of us.

"Stay here and I'll go and investigate," whispers Clove.

Clove unfastens the rope around her waist and cautiously goes to the end of the pipe. She returns a few moments later.

"There's a river nearby with several large pumps along its bank," reports Clove. "Only one pump is working at the moment. It must be pumping water from the river into this pipe."

"This pipe must be how they filled the lake in the arena," suggests Finch. We don't know if she's right, but what she says makes sense.

"Is there anybody about out there?" asks Cato.

"No. The pumps seem to be controlled from elsewhere."

"What's the weather like?" asks Rue.

"Fine and sunny," replies Clove. "There isn't a cloud in the sky. … Which means we must be outside the arena!"

We unfasten the rope around our waists and leave the pipe one at a time. We regroup in a small copse of trees along the riverbank, downstream from the pumps. We are free of the arena!

"What about the trackers in our arms?" asks Rue. "Won't the Gamemakers realise where we are?"

"Let's hope the Gamemakers can't detect a signal coming from outside the arena," I reply. It's a huge gamble, but again I have faith in Sarah knowing escape is possible for us.

"Where to now?" asks Cato. An excellent question. We have no idea where we are. Apart from the pumps and the arena, there's nothing but wilderness around us.

"Do we split up or stick together?" adds Clove. "If we stick together then the Gamemakers might catch us all. If we split up then some of us might escape even if others are caught."

None of us believe the Gamemakers will simply do nothing once they realise we are gone. We could be fugitives for the rest of our lives. The Gamemakers have too much to lose if we escape and tell our tale. If the people of the districts hear about our escape then our actions could trigger the rebellion the Capitol constantly fears.

Clove looks towards Cato and I. We look at each other and Cato and I instantly know our answer.

"Katniss and I are sticking together," replies Cato. "Anyone who wishes to join us is welcome, but if you three want to make your own way from here, then we wish you good luck."

"Until we reach a town or village I suggest we keep together," says Finch. "We can decide then whether to split up."

"I agree," says Rue. Clove nods in agreement.

So far there's no sign of pursuit. Of course the trackers in our arms may still be working, and the Gamemakers know exactly where we are. They could simply be gathering a large enough team to come and capture us.

[end of episode 4]


	27. 5-1 An alley cat in heat

Episode 5: Endgame

5.1: An alley cat in heat.

Cato, Clove, Finch, Rue and I have achieved something I don't think has occurred in any of the 73 previous Hunger Games. Not only one, but five, tributes have managed to escape from the arena. But we are not out of danger yet … far from it. With no idea where we are, we could easily become lost in the wilderness around us. We have nothing more deadly than the knives Cato, Clove and I carry, and we will be hard pressed to defend ourselves against the wolves and bears that probably live in these forests. But our biggest fear is that the tiny trackers the Gamemakers injected into our arms at the start of the Games are still transmitting a signal that betrays our whereabouts.

We take a few minutes to rest and clean some of the accumulated dirt from our clothes. Suddenly I hear Rue let out a short scream. I turn around and the next thing I know I'm lying flat on my back staring at the tree canopy above me. I'm conscious but my arms and legs feel like they are made of jelly.

"Control … We have them all. Send the transport now," comes a man's voice.

I can hear several other men's voices nearby, none of whom I recognise. It dawns on me that I've been shot by a stun gun. From what the man said, Cato, Clove, Finch and Rue must have been stunned as well. Our taste of freedom was very short lived. I suspect the rest of our lives are going to be equally short. I hear the sound of an aircraft approaching and with difficulty I manage to turn my head in the direction of the sound. I recognise the markings on the craft. It's the same one that brought us to the arena.

A man wearing body armour and a helmet stands over me and unceremoniously carries me clear of the trees where we were hiding. I'm laid down next to Finch and Clove. I try talking but the effects of the stun gun prevents me from making more than a gurgle. I can see two men hauling Cato and lying him next to us. Rue completes our horizontal line-up a few moments later. We are like corpses being laid our ready for burial. I wonder how long it will be before that is a reality.

I briefly see the craft as it lands not more than twenty metres from where we lie. Our captors stand in a line as though on parade. Presumably they are expecting congratulations for a job well done. I hear the craft door open and two people walk down the ramp.

"All accounted for, sir. Ma'am," says one of the men to people I can't see.

"Well done sergeant. You have been very efficient," says a man. "Now have them put on board the craft, if you please. We need to interrogate them as soon as possible."

The men carry us into the craft. The five of us are placed in one of the six-seat compartments we travelled in from the Capitol. The feeling is slowly returning to my muscles and in a few minutes I should be able to move. Unfortunately the solid safety restraints are locked into position before I recover enough to try an escape.

"Thank you sergeant. You and your men may resume your patrol. We'll take care of the prisoners from here."

I recognise the voice of the woman who just spoke. Sarah!

"But, ma'am!" objects the man I presume is the sergeant. "Surely we should guard the prisoners until they are delivered to the compound?"

"Are you arguing with a Gamemaker, sergeant?" replies Sarah. "That's a quick way to lose your stripes."

"No! No! Of course not, ma'am. I just thought you would be safer if some of my men guarded the prisoners."

"We shall be fine, sergeant. The effects of your stun guns will take several minutes to wear off and by then we shall have the prisoners at the compound. Now resume your patrol."

The sergeant clearly isn't happy, but complies with Sarah's orders. I try to make sense of what I've just heard. Could it be right? Sarah is a Gamemaker. If so, what game is she playing?

The craft takes off a minute or so later. It's a short journey just as Sarah's comments to the sergeant implied. We are left seated where we are until the effects of the stun gun wear off. The Gamemakers clearly don't feel like carrying us out. Fifteen minutes later I can move my arms and legs normally. The others seem equally recovered.

"If we get the chance we grab one of their weapons and fight our way out," says Clove. "I'm sure they intend to kill us and I'm not going to die without a fight."

We all nod in agreement. The impracticability of Clove's statement is highlighted when a security guard arrives carrying a length of chain and an assortment of shackles. Our left ankles are attached to the chain so that we will be unable to move independently when we are released from the safety restraint. For good measure he places the shackles on our wrists. Once he is satisfied we are secure he releases the safety restraint and he leads us off the craft.

We arrived from the Capitol on this landing pad. The huge wall in front of us must be part of the arena. This time we are taken along a different corridor and down to a lower level. We are made to wait in a room with only a short metal bench for furniture. The bench is just big enough for Rue, Clove and Finch to sit on. Cato and I are at the end of the line so we stand while the other three sit.

I turn to Cato and we kiss. For all I know this could be our last chance to do so and I don't intend to ignore the opportunity. He lifts his arms over me so we can embrace. My hands carefully lift the front of my dress so I can press my bare self against him. I never did find a replacement pair of underpants. The beast that has given me so much pleasure over the last two weeks responds. I don't know what Finch, Clove and Rue think of my actions but at the moment I don't care.

One thing leads to another. The zip on Cato's trousers is soon open and without thinking I have the beast firmly gripped in my hand. I work my magic and the beast starts to grow larger. We are trying to be discrete and not make it obvious what we are doing, but our heavy breathing must betray us. I really wish we could go all the way, but I don't want to embarrass Rue, Clove and Finch.

"Would you like us to close our eyes," says Rue in a tone that suggests that if I said 'yes', she would peek anyway.

"No way!" says Clove. "Katniss has the morals of an alley cat in heat. She performs in front of cameras all the time. She isn't going to mind us watching."

Clove is right. Cato and I have almost never been free of someone watching us perform what should be the most private of acts. Cato takes the initiative and seconds later we are one. It's an act of pure passion without any regrets or apologies for our actions. We make our union last as long as we dare before pushing each other over the threshold. The tremors pulsing through my body match those of Cato's, confirming we have both reached our peak at the same time. Despite our dire circumstances it is one of our most enjoyable couplings.

I would like to repeat our performance, but the sound of approaching voices means we no longer have the opportunity. Cato and I quickly straighten our clothes and resume our dejected posture. It seems our fate is about to be decided.


	28. 5-2 A disaster!

5.2: A disaster!

We are standing before Seneca Crane, the head Gamemaker. He's not in a happy mood. It seems our escape from the arena has resulted in him being summoned from the comforts of the Capitol at very short notice. Sarah and the male Gamemaker who collected us from the security patrol stand quietly to one side while Seneca Crane paces about. We wait in our line with Rue at one end and Cato at the other.

"This is a disaster!" complains Seneca Crane for the tenth time. "How did they escape? What are we to do now?"

"They escaped through the inflow pipe, sir," replies the male Gamemaker. "They claim they discovered it by accident when they were seeking shelter from the storm. They insist the grill door was open."

"So you keep saying," says Seneca Crane. "But I find it hard to believe all five tributes discovered the cave at the same time."

"The tracker signals and the recordings indicate they were all in the same general area when the storm struck," replies Sarah. "It's possible their story is true, sir."

"Hmmph! Well, then we shall have an enquiry after the Games are over as to why the grill door was left open. Now what are we to do about the Games? We have only one tribute left in the arena but the rest of Panem believes there are six. If we put this lot back in the arena who knows what they will say and do in front of the cameras."

"I have already proposed a solution, sir" replies Sarah. "I wish you would reconsider your decision."

"Your virtual arena! Pah! It's an untested technology. We shall all look like fools. Execute these five and put an end to this embarrassment," snaps Seneca Crane. "We shall have to make up some cover story and proclaim the boy from Twelve the victor."

"No. Not yet, sir. Please give my proposal a chance," pleads Sarah. "We have nothing to lose and everything to gain. The endgame I propose could make these the most memorable Games ever. The technology is tested and it works. Le Chat Noir is a testament to the success of virtual reality worlds. I only needed to make minor changes to enable it to be used here. I've set up a chamber here in this building."

"Give me the details and I'll reconsider your proposal," says Seneca Crane as he and Sarah walk off into another room. We are left standing where we are.

It's a long wait and it must be evening by the time we are told to move. A man marches us into another windowless room. It's a huge room with all sorts of fancy equipment at one end. There is someone already in the room. He is wearing some form of semi-transparent helmet that covers his entire head and fastens snugly around his neck. Each of his hands is locked inside what look like small plastic bags filled with a blue coloured gel. Wires are stuck to the helmet, bags and several places on his body. It isn't until I notice the injured leg that I realise I am looking at Peeta. I wave but he is too distracted to notice me.

"It's like what I saw at Le Chat Noir," says Clove. "The helmet is different but the mittens and wires are the same. That's Peeta isn't it. He must already be inside whatever virtual world Sarah has created."

"You are quite right, Clove," says Sarah as she walks over to us. "We pulled Peeta from the real arena half an hour ago. He is now inside a virtual arena. The rest of Panem is watching him move about a fake arena. The transition was seamless … at least as far as everyone watching is concerned. Now it is time for you all to join him."

"What are we expected to do?" asks Cato.

"You mean apart from proving my invention works and making me a very wealthy woman? You are to do what the rest of Panem expects you to be already doing. Fighting each other to the death."

"And what happens afterwards?" I ask.

"One of you will be the victor of the 74th Hunger Games. The others will be dead. If you die in the arena the valve supplying air through the helmet will shut and you will suffocate. I would have preferred to offer you a faster death but I don't have the means to do so. It is something I hope to add for next year's Games. If you play your roles right then I can convince the other Gamemakers we don't need to spend large sums of money building a real arena. I can provide a virtual arena for a fraction of the cost and nobody will notice the difference."

"So our escape was a trick to trap us," I snarl.

"Yes. I needed a reason to use this facility and you provided me with a means of doing so. I regret the deception but as I'm sure your mentor pointed out, there's always a price to pay for sponsorship."

"What if we refuse to fight each other in your virtual arena?" asks Cato.

"I control the virtual world you will see," says Sarah. "Resist if you dare, but you are doomed to failure if you do. Your only chance of survival is to emerge from the Games as the sole victor. Now enough questions, it is time to put on your equipment and join Peeta."

We look at each other in despair. One at a time we are unlocked from the chain and made to put on the helmet and mittens. A technician hooks the various wires up. Rue is first. Although I'm watching carefully, I don't notice the exact point at which she enters the virtual arena. Rue's actions make it look as though she is climbing a tree but she isn't moving more than a metre from where she started.

Clove and Finch follow Rue into the arena. Then it is my turn. I quickly kiss Cato before I'm taken over to an area marked on the floor that is to be my private zone. We are standing in a line about three metres apart in the real world; I suspect that isn't so in the virtual arena. I look at Sarah with as much venom as I can muster. I trusted her and she betrayed me.

"Oh don't look so angry, Katniss," says Sarah. "It's not my fault you are so trusting. You've only yourself to blame. What was it I told you … Ah yes! … If in need get the black cat to tell you its secret. Now good luck and we shall possibly meet again in a day or so."

Then Sarah is gone. The entire room I was in is gone. Around me are trees. I kneel down and touch the undergrowth. It is real grass and leaves. This isn't a virtual world … it is real. It is still raining and everywhere is wet. My dress is wet. This must be real because everything about the arena is exactly as I remember it.

I move cautiously through the undergrowth trying to get my bearings. It is evening and the cloudy sky shuts out whatever daylight is left. I could easily blunder into a hole or another tribute in the gloom. I decide my best option is to hide and rest until morning. I see a suitable tree and climb to a height of about six metres before wedging myself between the branches. It isn't the most comfortable of beds, but it will do for tonight. I feel sleepy and I fall asleep very quickly.

I wake as dawn is breaking. Unnoticed by me, the rain stopped in the night and today looks as though it is going to be warm and fine. I've no food and my only possession is the knife Clove gave me when Cato released me from my parole. I decide my first priority is to find out where I am and whether there are any supplies left at the Cornucopia. I check my surroundings before descending from the tree.

Half an hour later I'm still working my way through the forest. I haven't seen anything I recognise. There are no signs of the other tributes. The rising sun shows me which direction is east. Which doesn't make sense. The shade-loving moss growing on the tree trunks should be on the north side of the tree.

"Either the sun is rising in the wrong place or this isn't moss," I muse to myself.

"Or everything is back to front," comes a voice from behind me.

I turn and see Cato standing five metres from me with his sword ready in his hand.


	29. 5-3 Return of the black cat

5.3: Return of the black cat.

I throw caution to the wind and fling myself into Cato's arms. He throws his sword to one side and gives me a huge hug. Kisses follow and if I had my way we would get down to some serious romantic games straight away. But Cato is more cautious.

"We are being watched and you aren't being yourself," whispers Cato.

"What do you mean?" I reply. I know there will be cameras watching us, but Cato's last comment surprises me.

"What would you do if I asked you to remove all your clothes and dance naked through this forest?" he asks.

I practically have my dress off before he can stop me. But stop me he does. His touch on my skin sends waves of unbridled lust coursing through me.

"This isn't real. The wires attached to your body are sending signals that are making you aroused," Cato whispers into my ear. "Besides, we are being watched."

"I don't care about the cameras. I don't care about anything. I want you. I need you. Now. Please!" I plead, trying to drag Cato to the ground.

He finally gives in to my urging and I lose track of what is happening as Cato takes me over the edge into a world where only ecstasy exists. Gradually I come back to earth. I don't know how long we have been joined as one, but the warm afterglow is making me feel a well contented girl. I snuggle next to Cato who is lying beside me looking equally satisfied with what has just occurred. Then I notice something in the bushes barely a metre from my face. I sit up suddenly.

"I told you we were being watched," laughs Cato.

I reach out to touch the black cat hiding in the bushes. It backs away and flicks its tail at me as though telling me off for being naughty.

"When you said we were being watched, I thought you meant the Gamemakers' cameras. Has the cat been here all the time?"

"It lead me to you. I wouldn't have found you otherwise. When I entered this arena I was at the Cornucopia. During the night I woke and saw the cat. It seemed to want me to follow it, so I did."

"Well I'm glad you did," I reply. "But I don't know what we are going to do now. I suppose we had better hunt for something to eat."

"If I hunted inside my backpack and produced a can of soup, would it be worth a favour from you?" says Cato.

"For a can of soup I'd dance naked though this forest for you," I laugh.

"That won't be necessary at the moment, but let's keep your offer open for a later date. No, the favour I want from you is something quite different."

Cato explains his plan to me. I can't say I'm happy with what he proposes and I only half-heartedly agree to play my part. Cato's plan is audacious, but whether it will work or not is another matter. And by telling me his plan, he has probably announced his intentions to all of Panem. What will the Gamemakers do now?

The answer to my unspoken question arrives a few minutes later when the black cat makes a hissing sound and arches its back. Something has alarmed it. I quickly finish my soup and draw my knife. Cato already has his sword at the ready. We hear whatever it is before we can see anything. I recognise the sound of falling trees and see a large disturbance in the bushes to our right.

"Stampede!" cries Cato. "Come on! Run!"

I start to run behind Cato but suddenly turn back to grab the cat. When I reach it I freeze. The cat is no longer in a state of alarm and is settling down to rest.

"Wait, Cato!" I cry. "It's not real. It's an illusion."

Cato hasn't realised I have turned back and he's run off into the trees away from the stampede. I can no longer see him. I look towards the approaching animals which I can now see clearly. They are huge and can't be native to this forest. There's no escape for me. Given the speed the stampede is approaching, I doubt there was ever enough time to escape. Hiding in the trees would be pointless as even the sturdiest trees are felled by the rapidly approaching wave of destruction. I face the oncoming mass as bravely as I can. My only comfort is the black cat is still lying in the grass seemingly unconcerned about what is happening.

Then the cat vanishes.

If I had any sane thoughts flowing through my mind in those final seconds I would have been proud that I didn't scream or lose control of my bodily functions. I will never know whether I stayed rooted to the spot through bravery or as a result of being paralysed with fear. I can practically smell the animals as they continue their headlong charge. One or two brush by my arms as they pass either side of me.

But none of the scores of beasts actually hits me. The stampede passes and the ground stops trembling. Trees either side of me have been reduced to matchwood. My knees are trembling but I'm still standing! I can't believe it. I start to run after the stampede to see if Cato is alright. As I leave I notice the black cat has returned and is following me.

"Coward," I call to the cat in the same tone I use for addressing Buttercup, my sister Prim's mangy cat.

The stampede is well ahead of me and has left a trail of destruction twenty metres wide. My casual mood is spoilt by the sound of a cannon signalling the death of a tribute. Suddenly I'm very afraid for Cato's well being. I break into a run.

"Cato! Cato!" I scream at the top of my voice.

I slow down as soon as I reach the point where I estimate Cato may have reached before the stampede overtook him. There is destruction all around me.

"Cato! Are you alright?" I call again. There's no answer.

The cat brushes my leg and walks off in the direction of a shattered tree. It stops after a few paces and circles in a motion that suggests it wants me to follow it. With a heavy heart I let it lead me to where it wants to go.

I don't see anything different about this pile of broken timber. There is a swathe of similar destruction all around me. But the cat circles around a particular spot and I carefully remove some branches. My actions speed up when I see a leg sticking out from under a large branch. It takes me a few minutes to clear away the branch. All the time I am pleading with Cato to give me a sign he is still alive. But it is all in vain. My efforts only uncover Cato's lifeless body. Whether he died from falling from the tree or was crushed by the stampede is something I will never know. To be honest, I never want to know.

My tears flow freely as I mourn the death of the boy who has been both my lover and closest friend. It's strange how you don't realise how much a person means to you until they are no longer with you. Despite the promise I gave to Cato only minutes ago, I don't think I can continue. I slump into a heap of despair. The cat comes to my side and rubs against my leg as though giving me sympathy. As it does so I feel something hard attached around its neck. I look for the offending item and see the cat is wearing a collar with a tag similar to the one Clove wears. On the tag there is a black cat motif on one side and on the reverse are three words; 'nothing is real'.


	30. 5-4 Talking to a cat

5.4: Talking to a cat.

Seeing the words on the cat's tag helps my mind focus. The suddenness of Cato's death still affects me, even if the words on the tag are correct and nothing is real. I refuse to believe Cato's presence was a figment of my imagination. He may not have been physically with me, but our respective minds were joined. What worries me is that Sarah said death in the arena triggers death in the real world. Cato's death here may have been an illusion, but he could nevertheless be lying dead in the basement room below the arena. I fear I may never see Cato alive again.

My earlier feelings of despair are now replaced by a determination to see Cato's plan through to fruition. This virtual arena may have a the same exit we took in the real arena. I just wish I had asked Cato the direction to take to reach the Cornucopia.

"I don't suppose you can show me how to get to the Cornucopia," I say to the cat.

I must be going insane. I'm talking to a cat. What is worse, I'm actually expecting a response! The cat meows and walks in a circle before deciding on a direction to take. I follow as quickly as I can. After trusting Sarah, and having my trust abused, I'm cautious about blindly following the cat. I check my surroundings as we walk. It had taken Cato a couple of hours to reach me from the Cornucopia, so the reverse journey should take just as long. That's assuming the cat is, in fact, taking me to the Cornucopia and isn't simply hunting for food.

The sound of a cannon tells me another tribute has died. I've no idea which tribute or how they died. I still haven't seen another tribute apart from Cato in the sixteen hours I've been back in the arena. No! I correct myself … I've not returned to the arena. This isn't the real arena. This arena doesn't exist.

I've been following the cat for over an hour with little break in the monotony of the trees and bush around me. I'm too busy mourning Cato to notice the movement in the trees to my left until it is too late. It's a careless mistake and I should have known better. I don't see who it is and I suppose it doesn't matter. All that matters is that they are a good archer. The arrow protruding from my chest causes me to become confused and I feel myself sinking to the floor. There's no pain … just a strange sensation and a difficulty in breathing. I feel disoriented and everything is going dark.

My difficulty in breathing is becoming acute. The trees have vanished. There's something over my face. I try to brush it away but my hands are useless. I start to panic.

"Calm down, Katniss! We'll have the helmet off in a second."

Suddenly I can breathe again. I gasp for air. I look around and as my senses return to normal I realise I'm in the basement room beneath the arena. There are people working at the equipment at one end of the room. But I only give them a cursory look. The people closer to me hold my immediate attention. Rue, Cato and Sarah. I hug Rue before falling into Cato's arms, at which point I can no longer hold back my tears.

"I'm sorry about the deception, Katniss," says Sarah when I finally pull myself together. "I needed you all to believe that you were really fighting for your lives or you wouldn't have convinced the Gamemakers or the audience. You are safe now. Tomorrow my colleagues and I will smuggle you out of here."

I'm not certain I can forgive Sarah just yet, but I can see some logic to her actions. The promise of escape improves my spirits. But I'm not about to let go of Cato any time soon and he seems just as anxious to keep hold of me.

We move over to an area of the room where we can sit and have something to eat. We can see Peeta, Clove and Finch. Their actions obviously mirror their movements in the arena, but they never move outside their designated space in this room.

After a while Sarah comes over to sit with us. I still have a firm grip on Cato's arm but feel ready to ask Sarah some questions.

"If you intend to help us escape, why did you have us captured by the river," I ask.

"Had I left you there your escape would have almost certainly failed. The Gamemakers would have pursued you until they caught you. The trackers in your arms betrayed your location. In any case, even if you had evaded pursuit, you would have probably perished in the wilderness. We are over a hundred kilometres from the nearest district and the chances of you heading in the right direction were remote. This way the Gamemakers believe you are really dead so aren't going to be looking for you."

"Won't they want to return our bodies to our families?" asks Rue.

"Tributes who die are cremated at the arena site and only their ashes are sent to their families. The Gamemakers decreed that the sight of children's mutilated bodies might cause unrest in the districts. Ashes are easy to fake. A colleague of mine has all that in hand."

"But what do you gain from all this? Aren't you a Gamemaker yourself?" asks Cato.

"Yes, this is my first year as a Gamemaker. President Snow had me appointed against my wishes. He has visited Le Chat Noir and seen what the technology we developed can do. It was he who saw the potential in creating a virtual Hunger Games arena to save the huge expense of building a real arena each year. That part of what I told you before you entered the virtual arena is true. I stand to become a very wealthy woman in President Snow has his way. But the other Gamemakers needed convincing, so I devised the plan you have been so instrumental in carrying out."

"Then why risk everything by helping us escape?" I ask.

"I'll not be a party to murder. Fighting and dying in the arena is one thing. Being executed in this room is another. My colleagues feel the same way. We will deliver a virtual arena as we are compelled to do, but no tribute will die in real life if we can help it."

"So where do we go when we leave here?" I ask.

"You are officially dead and it will be impossible for you to ever return to your homes. You must have realised that when you decided to escape from the arena. Creating false identities is possible, but dangerous. You might be discovered and arrested at any time. I can give you three choices, but I shall wait until the two other losing tributes join us before I explain what those choices are."

"What about the victor? Won't he or she wonder why we aren't dead?" asks Rue.

"As soon as Peeta, Clove or Finch claim victory a sleeping gas will knock them out for a while. The victor will never see you. It's another reason I needed you all to believe only one of you survives. Otherwise a careless word or action by the victor at any time in the future may betray us all."

"So who is going to win these games?" asks Cato.

"I've no idea," replies Sarah. "We only provide the virtual arena. What a tribute does inside the arena is entirely beyond our control. The Gamemakers may order us to introduce new elements into the arena, like the stampede you three faced, but apart from that the victor will be decided without any interference from us. Katniss was lucky to escape the stampede by running in the right direction. Cato and Rue weren't so lucky."

"Then what about the black cat that lead Cato to me?" I ask. "And I didn't run clear of stampede. The animals simply passed either side of me without hurting me."

"Black cat? What black cat? And what do you mean about the stampede?"


	31. 5-5 Making out on the forest floor

5.5: Making out on the forest floor.

The last thing I feel like doing at the moment is watching a recording of my actions inside the arena. But Sarah's alarm when I mentioned the black cat and my escape from the stampede leaves me with no option. Despite my repeated questions about the significance of all this, Sarah either refuses to say or she simply doesn't know the answer. I think Sarah and her colleagues would insist the cat was a product of my over-active imagination, were it not for Cato's confirmation that he followed the black cat for two hours.

We watch segments showing Cato walking away from the Cornucopia. There's no sign of the cat, but Cato is clearly following something. Mercifully the recording of Cato and I making out on the forest floor was never transmitted on television. It's embarrassing enough watching with just the small group around me. Fortunately Sarah skips the recording forward and resumes at the moment I realise the cat is watching Cato and I. The recording doesn't show the cat, but both Cato and I can be heard talking about it and we are plainly looking at something more than the leaves on the ground.

As for my escape from the stampede, then all the recordings show so much debris and chaos that anything could have happened. My claim the animals avoided me can't be proved or disproved by the recordings.

Sarah and her four colleagues confer and finally reach some form of consensus. Sarah takes me aside so we can discuss something without the others overhearing our conversation.

"What's wrong, Sarah?" I ask. "Before I entered the arena you told me that if I needed help I should get the black cat to tell me its secret."

"Yes. The cat on your arm that revealed the location of the door out of the arena. The virtual arena had a door at the same location, as Cato planned to use. But neither of you ever reached that far. You were wandering off in the wrong direction and walked straight into an ambush. Your chances of winning these Games ended there."

"You mean I wasn't heading towards the Cornucopia?" I ask, realising the cat had lead me into the ambush. Was it doing so deliberately?

"You were nearly a kilometre from the Concucopia and if you remained on your course you would have passed well to the south of it. Do you still maintain you were following a black cat?"

"Yes. I'm not making it up. But I don't know why the cat led me into the ambush."

"Despite what I said to Seneca Crane, there are many things about creating and managing a virtual world that we don't fully understand," says Sarah. "The technology was developed before the great war that destroyed much of civilisation. It is only in recent years that we have been able to restore the powerful computers that create the virtual worlds. But the computers are very advanced and unlike anything we use today. Our knowledge about how they work is patchy. Some things happen automatically that we can't explain. You and Cato noticed the moss was growing on the wrong side of the tree. That is because a virtual world is automatically set in the southern hemisphere. We have no idea why or how to change it. The sun in the virtual world travels across the northern sky, so the moss grows on south side of the tree."

"But what about the black cat? Is that another thing the virtual world creates on its own?"

"Yes and no. The black cat is what we believe is called a daemon. The virtual world creates it, but only in response to your wishes. Very few people have the ability to create a daemon and this is the first time we've come across one lasting for more than a few seconds. You wanted Cato to join you, and your daemon brought him to you. You were concerned about Cato after he died in the arena, so the cat made it possible for you to be with him. Had you really wanted to carry on and win the Games, I suspect the cat would have taken you to the Cornucopia."

"I may have wished for those things, but I never said them aloud. How did the cat know it was what I wanted to happen?"

"I don't know for certain, but I think your subconscious created and controlled the cat."

"So what happens now?" I ask, sensing this conversation is leading up to something.

"I said there were three alternatives I can offer you and the other four defeated tributes. For you there is a fourth option. You can come and work with us at Le Chat Noir. We would provide you with a false identity. You would have a comfortable apartment in the Capitol and be well paid."

"I'm not going anywhere without Cato," I say.

"It would be too risky for you to be together in the Capitol. Wait until you I tell you what the other three alternatives are before you decide."

I nod in acknowledgement of what Sarah has said, but my mind is already made up. Working at Le Chat Noir without Cato by my side is not an option I'm prepared to accept.

I return to where Cato and Rue are sat and once again bury myself in Cato's welcoming arms. I'm sure he and Rue are curious about my conversation with Sarah, but neither pushes me for answers.

We wait patiently as the Peeta, Clove and Finch play out the endgame of the 74th Hunger Games inside the virtual arena. I'm asleep when Cato gently shakes me awake. Finch has just joined us. She is disoriented at first and just as puzzled about what is happening as I had been. Sarah is off-duty and is asleep on a bunk at the other end of the room. One of Sarah's nameless colleagues helps Finch recover but leaves any explanations to us.

"What happened to you?" asks Rue of Finch.

"An arrow in the back. I hadn't realised Peeta and Clove were both armed with bow and arrows. I was trapped between them and couldn't evade them both. I think they will fight it out as soon as it is daylight."

"Then I suggest we all get some sleep," I say. "I suspect tomorrow is going to be a long day with some difficult decisions to make."

After a couple of weeks of sleeping on the ground or up a tree, the thin sleeping mats Sarah has provided are a luxury. In my case I sleep snuggled close to Cato. A position I've decided I shall do my best to make a permanent arrangement. Once or twice I've indirectly asked Cato about the future, but he has avoided making any commitment about our future together. I begin to wonder if he is starting to feel differently towards me. Not that I should blame him. Our initial meeting and subsequent liaison has hardly been a typical boy-meets-girl sort of romance. Before the reaping I would never have imagined myself capable of doing some of the things I've done, let alone carry them out in full view of other people. Does Cato now look back and think of me being little better than a cheap slut? Is he having second thoughts about being with me?

"Is something wrong?" asks Cato when he feels me becoming restless.

"I'm fine," I lie. I'm not really ready to face a discussion about our future, although I know I cannot avoid the subject much longer.

"Sarah wants you to go and work for her at Le Chat Noir, doesn't she?" says Cato.

"What makes you think that?" I reply, evading Cato's question.

"I'm not blind, Katniss. The episode with the black cat and your escape from the stampede clearly excited Sarah and her team. Anybody who gets that excited is obviously going to want to learn more. And what better way to do that than to have you join them."

"You are too clever for your own good," I reply with a sigh.

"So what's the problem? Ah … let me guess. … Us? The invitation doesn't include anyone else."

I snuggle as close as I get into Cato's arms in order to avoid answering. I want to say I'm happy to reject Sarah's offer and spend my life with Cato, but Cato hasn't said one word about wanting me along for the ride.


	32. 5-6 Three options

5.6: Three options.

Clove completes our team of five tributes who die in the virtual arena. Peeta is proclaimed the victor. Not that he is in any condition to celebrate just yet. Just as Sarah has told us, a sleeping gas knocks Peeta out as soon as Clove dies in the arena. By the time the gas wears off Clove, Cato, Finch, Rue and I will be out of sight and Peeta will be inside the real arena.

Despite Sarah's claims she and her colleagues haven't interfered with the outcome, I begin to wonder whether Peeta's victory was planned and whether or not he knows he has been inside a virtual arena. Perhaps he believes he was facing dangerous animals rather than the five of us. I don't understand enough of how virtual worlds work to decide. I remind myself that Sarah's actions are driven as much by self-interest as a desire to help us. We are temporary allies with different long term goals. Mine are to see an end to the Hunger Games entirely; hers are for them to continue indefinitely inside her virtual arenas.

But Sarah is helping us for now. The next stage of her plan is quickly put into action. With the 74th Hunger Games over, this room is no longer off-limits to Seneca Crane and the other Gamemakers. Sarah quickly has the five of us put onto trolleys with sheets placed over us. We are wheeled out of the room housing Sarah's equipment and taken to a nearby room. The sheets are removed. This room is the crematorium where defeated tributes are cremated and their ashes placed into small urns. In our case the cremation is faked. One at a time Sarah's colleague passes a device over our arms which he says disables the tracker inside our arms. The technicians monitoring the tracker signals will believe the tracker has been destroyed during the cremation. An urn marked Katniss Everdeen, District Twelve is placed next to one with Glimmer's name on it. As much as I hated Glimmer when she was alive, I can only feel sorrow when I see her urn.

But we don't have time to dwell on the deaths of the other tributes. We are escorted to yet another room where we are to hide for a couple of days until the Gamemakers and technicians leave for the Capitol. Sarah and her team will remain for another day or so, purportedly to pack up their equipment. By now Peeta is probably on his way to the Capitol to prepare for the victory celebrations.

"I promised you three options for your future," says Sarah when she joins us. "I can't guarantee any option is completely safe, nor will any of them be easy for you. But you are still alive and that is more than anyone else in Panem believes. The first option …"

I listen dutifully as Sarah explains what she and her team can do to help settle our future. We already know going home is impossible. We are officially dead and anyone noticing we are still alive is someone who could betray us. I've not forgotten Sarah's offer to work at Le Chat Noir. It would mean relying on false identity documents and undergoing minor surgery to change my features, but it would provide the most comfortable lifestyle of the options on offer.

Sarah doesn't push us for an immediate answer, but we each need to decide by tomorrow. She asks that we don't all choose the same option as we will be at greater risk of discovery if we stay as a group. Once the five of us are alone we discuss the options Sarah presented.

"What's the matter with you two?" asks Clove of Cato and I, after a long inconclusive discussion. "Both of you have been avoiding making any decision for the last hour."

I shrug my shoulders. Cato does the same. Clove grabs me by my arm and hauls me off to one side.

"Please tell me you aren't seriously considering working at Le Chat Noir?" says Clove as soon as I tell her about Sarah's offer.

"Not really. But Cato keeps pushing me to accept. I think he wants me out of his hair."

"Nonsense. He's trying to be noble and not stand in the way of you having a comfortable life."

"So what can I do? He hasn't said he wants me to stay with him, and I don't know how I'd feel if I saw him regularly but we weren't together."

"Then show him you need him. He's scared of what you were able to do in the virtual arena. He likes to feel in control of things and he realises you have abilities he can't match."

"But my abilities were only of use in an imaginary world. Not in real life. Now all the fighting is over, I'm scared of what happens next. And for all I know I could be expecting Cato's child."

"Given our recent experiences in the arena, I wouldn't jump to any conclusions just yet," replies Clove. "I take it you and Cato weren't being careful to avoid an unwanted pregnancy … No, of course you weren't. You didn't expect to live long enough for it to matter … or if you did live, you would have ample money to support a child. None of us could have predicted this outcome."

"I shall just have to accept the consequences of my reckless behaviour."

"Oh, stop being so bleak … Hey, Cato!," calls Clove. "What do you propose to do about supporting the mother of your child?"

Cato is by my side in a flash. I quickly tell him it's far too early to tell whether I'm pregnant, but we both know it's a possibility. The invisible barrier that had been building between us vanishes in an instant. Cato's immediate and unreserved reaction to Clove's call confirms what I should never have doubted. Cato and I are a couple and where one goes then so does the other.

Now we have overcome Cato and my indecisiveness, the five of us review our options again. This time we quickly make our choices that meet Sarah's conditions. Sarah's revelation that District Thirteen is still in existence came as a huge surprise. Personally I wouldn't like living in underground bunkers being ruled by military officers, but Clove prefers that option. Finch and Rue decide to join the free settlers scratching an existence out of the frozen lands to the north of Panem's borders. Which leaves Cato and I with the third option unless Sarah is prepared to include Cato in her offer for me to work at Le Chat Noir. But Sarah insists it is too dangerous for Cato and I to be together in the Capitol, not just for Cato and I, but for Sarah and everyone else involved in our escape from the arena.

Sarah makes arrangements for the first part of our respective journeys and for false identity papers to be prepared for Cato and I. A week later Cato and I are in our new home in District Eight. The factories here have a insatiable demand for more workers. Large numbers of itinerant workers are constantly moving back and forth between farms and the factories. The constant flow of people helps disguise our sudden arrival and provides us with a means of escape if necessary.

At first I feared we would be recognised, but it is a sad fact of the Hunger Games that even after only a few days the faces of the defeated tributes aren't remembered. Peeta's face is on the television screens every day while none of the other tributes are ever mentioned. I don't know whether this is out of respect for the dead, or a deliberate policy of not reminding people that 23 young people have just died violent deaths. I try to avoid watching anything to do with the 74th Hunger Games, but it is difficult to avoid the constant broadcasts. Through them I at least learn that Peeta has been reunited with Sheba. There's even speculation they may marry.

Before we went our separate ways, Clove, Finch and Rue speculated Cato and I may marry. We won't … at least not under Panem law. Our false identities may not stand up under the rigorous examination the law officers make before authorising a wedding. But we have exchanged vows and as far as we are concerned we are man and wife. The future for us is going to be tough, but nothing we can't handle. No district person ever has an easy life but I don't regret giving up the opportunity to live in the Capitol. Outwardly Cato and I are diligent and hard working employees at a local factory. It's a perfect cover for our undercover work for the rebellion. Clothing, food and equipment are all safely hidden for when they might be needed.

"No regrets?" Cato asks me one evening a few months later as we are preparing for bed after a hard day's work at the factory.

"No regrets," I reply, removing the last of my clothes.

Cato has certain rules he likes me to follow when we are alone. Not that I always comply, but that simply adds variation to the games we play. In some ways I value his rules, even if some of them seem a little strange. He doesn't force me to obey them, but I know there are certain rewards for compliance just as there are penalties for disregarding them. Not that there is a huge difference between reward and penalty. But I know better than to try imposing rules in reverse. Cato likes to feel in control of our time together, and I like it when he thinks he is. All in all it is great fun and his rules ensure we understand each others mood and how far too push our physical play.

When we first discovered our mutual attraction and passion for role play, our games together could get quite rough. Since my pregnancy was confirmed, our games are slightly less rough, but still quite physical. Tonight his mood and opening moves tells me he is wanting to play lord and master. Now my role needs to be decided. There are several roles I've discovered I can play which we both enjoy. At one extreme I can play the role of a submissive concubine, at the other extreme I can play the virtuous lady and make him work for my favours. According to Cato's rules I must now choose and make my preference known by next action. I adopt a position that conveys my choice. I don't need to say anything unless I wish to try something we haven't tried before.

As usual his response takes me into another plain of existence. The problems of the world can wait until morning.

[The end]

This series continues in _Katniss &amp; Cato: Love in Dangerous Times_ s/10504936/1/ .


	33. Cato and Katniss: Lust, Love & Danger

_Preview of Cato and Katniss: Lust, Love and Danger_

Forward: This short story is told from Cato's point of view. The same events told from the point of view of Katniss are told in _Katniss and Cato: Love in Dangerous Waters._

It's nearly midnight. Tomorrow is the last morning of training, and the final assessments are in the afternoon. Two days after that we will be inside the Hunger Games arena fighting for our lives. Six years of competitive training in the District Two academy have gained me the dubious honour of being the District Two male tribute for the 74th Hunger Games. Clove had to go through the same process to become the female tribute, although in her case I think she enjoyed the brutality of the final elimination rounds. No one was killed in those rounds, but maiming your opponent was well within the rules. I won the male competition easily enough, but I can't say I enjoyed the bloodshed.

I lie in bed unable to sleep despite everything so far going to plan. The traditional alliance between the District One and District Two tributes is already working well. Between us, Clove, Marvel, Glimmer and I have intimidated nearly all the other districts' tributes. I'm fairly certain this year's Hunger Games will see a victor from among the four of us. Only the boy from Eleven seems strong enough to be a serious challenger. As for the girls, apart from Clove and Glimmer, I don't rate any of them as potential victors. The red-haired girl from Five is clever, the young one from Eleven is agile, and the frosty looking one from Twelve is an enigma. But apart from Clove, none of the girls show the ruthlessness to be a victor. When it comes to the crunch, they will hesitate and forfeit their lives as a result.

So what is keeping me awake? I know the answer to that question all too well, and thinking about it just makes Roger go harder. My mentors, Cassius and Enobaria, are aware of my problem. Although Cassius treats it as a big joke, he has at least offered a solution. He's says it is quite normal at this stage of the Games, particularly when things are going so well. It is partly a product of our academy training. We are taught to believe a mighty warrior about to enter battle is entitled to prove his manliness to a girl in the most intimate ways imaginable. Cassius has offered to purchase the services of one or more young women to tend to Roger's needs, but I don't want a prostitute. Nor am I going to force my attentions on an unwilling partner. No, I want a girl who willingly submits herself to my desires. Enobaria tells me I'm being too picky. In other circumstances I might have approached Clove, but I'm the wrong gender for her tastes. Besides, she is just as likely to kill me as lie with me. We are temporary allies, not friends.


End file.
